


Dear Father Christmas...

by TenRoseForeverandever



Series: These Two Hearts [15]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Christmas, Diary/Journal, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Letters to Santa, Life-threatening Illness, Near Drowning, Non-Explicit Sex, Original Character(s), Violence, life-threatening injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 65,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenRoseForeverandever/pseuds/TenRoseForeverandever
Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.





	1. December 24, 2016 (Prompt: Hope)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompts provided by _doctorroseprompts_ over on Tumblr for their _31 Days of Ficmas_ celebration. I’ve played with the order of the prompts a bit, but I intend to use them all.
> 
> This will be a huge challenge for me. For those of you who know me well, you’ll know I am not a fast writer. To post one of these every day for 31 days will be pushing me well and truly to my limits. They may not all get posted on time, but they will get posted. Promise.
> 
> My eternal thanks to my brilliant betas Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci for picking up on the things I miss and for chivvying me along. ((((hugs))))
> 
> The first prompt is **Hope**. Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor celebrate their baby's first Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci are brilliant betas. Eternal thanks to them both.
> 
> Please check out the wonderful cover art by the brilliant Rose_Nebula: [Baby’s First Christmas](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Baby-s-First-Christmas-718479335)

* * *

December 24th, 2016

**Dear Father Christmas,**

Blimey! It’s been a while. I don’t think I’ve written to you since… well since _Jimmy_. That bloody wanker sucked the magic out of everything. He sucked the magic right out of my life. But that’s all right. The Doctor gave me back the magic and then some.

Oh my God! I just realized! Maybe you don’t even know who I am. Is Father Christmas even the same bloke in all universes? Are you a transdimensional entity? I reckon not, or else transdimensional travel would be possible, and we know for a fact it’s not, not any more.

I know I’m just being stupid. Transdimensional capabilities or not, you’re obviously just a fictional character, a product of children’s imaginations and a bloated, economy-driven society. Still, I bet the Doctor would disagree. He’d probably tell me Santa is an actual being from some planet with an unpronounceable name. Complete with elves too! I wager he’d say “lots of planets have a North Pole”. But most of his knowledge is based on the Prime Universe… for now. So even if you are real there, you may not be the same in this universe, or you may not exist at all.

Don’t suppose it matters anyway, yeah? It was just always nice to chat with you like this every year, so I guess I’ll start again. I missed this. Back in the Prime Universe, Mum got me started writing to you every Christmas Eve, even when I was just a baby. Those first notes were just a few pencil scratches. Complete rubbish. She loved them, anyway. She kept them safe for years, would bring them out every Christmas and show them around along with the naked baby photos, (especially if I had been a cow to her or we’d had a row.) But she had to leave them all behind in the Prime Universe with so much else from our lives. Embarrassing as they were, it would’ve been nice to be able to, well… Enough of that!

By the time I was four, I knew all my letters. I was so determined to do it myself, write my own Christmas wish list. Mostly it was just all the things I wanted for Christmas. But I always minded my manners. I said please and thank-you. I always asked after Mrs. Claus and the reindeer. And, I hope I was never greedy. Sorry if I was, even if you aren’t actually the right Father Christmas to apologize to.

As I got older, I realized you weren’t real (sorry!) and my letters to you became more of a diary. You know… private stuff I’d write every year, yeah. It was nice to be able to say things, to tell someone things I couldn’t say to anyone else. Course, I stopped for a while, because Jimmy… I’d never want _him_ to find those letters and have that to hold over me. Anyway, it’s not like I’d ever had the chance to write them, working two, sometimes three jobs, just to keep that knob in fags and drink. And after a while, I just got out of the habit, and life took some good turns… and some bad turns. Then some _really_ bad turns.

But now, life is completely brilliant! I have my Doctor by my side... forever! I have my own baby girl. (Hope’s her name and she’ll be writing you a note too this year!) And, to top it off, I’m actually _dictating_ these letters now. Voice recognition software! The Doctor jiggery-pokeried it so when it’s printed it uses my handwriting as the font.

I’m rambling, aren’t I? Guess I’m just a bit nervous (and excited) about doing this again and getting Hope started too.

I think you’ll like Hope. But I’m warning you, I don’t think she’s quite like other babies. Well, I _know_ she isn’t. She’s her father’s daughter, that’s for sure. Nine months old, and she’s already talking up a storm. Full sentences! Just watch, she’ll be able to use this voice recognition software… Course, I don’t know what her handwriting font will look like, ‘cause she’s pretty much like a normal baby in her gross and fine motor development, so no handwriting just yet. Her verbal and cognitive development, though… the doctors at Torchwood say it’s off the charts.

It scares me if I’m being honest. I don’t know how I can ever be a mum to her… a proper mum. Thank God I have the Doctor by my side to keep her entertained, because she takes in absolutely everything and it’s never enough. But he “gets” her. He knows how to keep her happy. We take her on adventures (safe ones, don’t worry!) all through space and time. And we explore. Oh, we explore so much!

But it’s so different from the way I explored as a kid, ya know? Here’s an example. We go to a beach, yeah, with rock pools and lovely sand too, and the water is so warm and wavy. Now me, as a kid, I’d splash in the waves and muck about in the sand with my pail and spade. And at the rock pool, I’d poke at a few beasties and squeal about them. It was all just in fun. But with Hope, everything is so intense. She investigates everything, and her Daddy is right there with her, coaxing her to connect the dots herself, filling in the bits she’s missed. The starfish (sorry, _sea star −_ I must use proper terminology!) was carefully examined, all its little bits explored and then thoroughly researched back at the TARDIS, and not just the names of the bits, but the hows and whys of them too.

And then the Doctor reads to her… not baby books, but Harry Potter and Narnia and Oliver Twist. She’s even sounding out some parts herself. He’ll break out the sciencey stuff, the physics and chemistry and biology, and the maths too, when it has something to do with what happened on our adventure that day. And she hangs on every word. I don’t know if she understands everything he reads her, but she sure understands a lot of it.

She’s just so tiny, just an infant, but her mind is so big. Definitely bigger on the inside, our child is! I love her like I never thought I could love anyone, but I’m so frightened that… that… well, that she won’t love _me_ , a stupid ape. How can I be a proper mum to her when she already knows more about bloody sea stars than I ever will?

Then there are those times when I hold her in my arms and feed her at my breast, when I snuggle her to sleep, and I breathe in her sweet baby smell. It’s almost normal. Sometimes I can even get her giggling, completely out of control, over the most simple things, like peek-a-boo. And when she bumps her head, her arms immediately come up for _me_ to hold her and kiss it better. _Me!_  That makes me feel like a proper mum.

You should have seen her when we were putting up the Christmas tree this afternoon. Her fat little fingers were grabbing for all those bright shiny baubles, and her eyes were so wide and she didn’t know where to look first because it was all so pretty. And then Daddy came prancing down the stairs from the console room wearing a big red light-up nose and huge felt antlers on his head, and we were all in hysterics. I really felt like part of the family, and I kind of realized I don’t always feel that way.

It’s made me think, though, going forward, I really need to make a place for her in my life as she grows. I always used to love to paint and draw. Once upon a time, I was even going to go for my A-levels in art. Before Jimmy. I’d like to take that up again, and I could teach her too, eventually, when she can actually hold a brush. Maybe we could do that together. And singing and dancing, not to mention gymnastics when she’s old enough.

Blimey! This has been one weird Christmas letter, yeah? And I haven’t even asked for any presents. I honestly just want my family to be healthy and happy, and I want to be able to be a proper mum to Hope. Not really stuff you can just hide under the tree.

Oh! Here comes Hopie now, in her Daddy’s arms, all fresh from her bath. Hey there, baby girl! Are you ready to write your letter to Father Christmas? C’mere, sit on Mummy’s lap and maybe Daddy will make us a cuppa. (Thanks, love!) And, my darling girl, as soon as you’re finished with _your_ letter, we better head right over to see Gran and Grandad and Uncle Tony. There’ll be hell to pay if we’re late! (I hear you moaning, Doctor!)

Okay, Father Christmas, here’s me, signing off for this year. Lots of love to Mrs. Claus and all the reindeer and elves too! Thanks for listening to me whinge. It really helped to get it off my chest. I know, I know! I need to tell the Doctor how I’ve been feeling, but I don’t want him going and feeling guilty just because he’s being a bloody amazing dad. But I’ll talk to him; I promise.

Happy Christmas!

**love, Rose**


	2. December 24, 2017 (Prompt: Candles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rose and the Doctor decide to spend December Earth-bound, tensions and insecurities surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, immeasurable thanks to my marvellous betas Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci. You listened to a lot of whinging today, and I appreciate it!
> 
> The song the Doctor plays for Rose is [ Christmas Without You ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3SZhJIcvXE) by a dear friend of mine, Tori Hathaway.

* * *

December 24th, 2017

**Dear Father Christmas,**

We decided to come back to Earth early this year and spend Christmas in our little blue house. I love the exploring and adventures, and not that I would ever want to give up the traveling, but sometimes I just miss the simplicity of being Earthbound. Sometimes I miss my beans-on-toast life. And I miss the house. There are so many memories we made there. It wasn’t easy to convince the Doctor to take an extended shore leave. It took a lot of persuading (and there were lots of rows), but eventually he agreed this would be a good holiday for all of us.

And it has been good… mostly... I suppose. We’ve been here a month now, and I’ve been settling right in to a proper domestic life: baking biscuits and decorating the house for Christmas. The Doctor’s been champing at the bit, though. Restless, he is. We’ve both been helping out at Torchwood, and that’s kept him somewhat entertained, rummaging through all the new artifacts that’ve turned up. But I caught him wiring one up to the TARDIS, last week. He nicked it! Slipped it out, right past security! I insisted he had to take it back. Blimey, what a lot of whinging there was. Eventually he did as I told him, but he did it on his own terms: he told Dad he was just checking the security systems, seeing if he could get away with it, and clearly security wasn’t “up to snuff”. So now, not only have I been hauled in as a consultant to review the current security policies and suggest upgrades _right before Christmas_ , but I have to listen to that plonker use his new favourite catchphrase, “up to snuff”, at every possible opportunity.

Well, hopefully his Christmas gift will be _up to snuff_. I convinced Dad to give me the gadget he’d filched. Of course, I had to go through a pile of paperwork to get it released, and all kinds of scans and safety checks, owing to the upgraded security procedures that I was stupid enough to suggest. All I can say is he better appreciate everything I went through to get this for him.

Hope’s been enrolled with the nursery group at Torchwood while we’re both at work. That caused another row between me and the Doctor. He wanted her with _him_ , exploring all the artifacts and “helping out” in the labs, conducting experiments. I mean, I get it, she’s a smart cookie, but she’s only twenty-one months old! And when we’re on the TARDIS, that’s okay. I mean she’s learning about aliens and the universe and stuff, and that’s great, but I’m worried she isn’t learning how to be _human_. She needs to interact with other children her own age, and not just blue bubble-children from Bluftrig 4.

So, of course, the first few days of nursery were awful: tears and tantrums. And that was just the Doctor. Fuck! (oh, God, sorry Santa! Excuse my language!) But seriously, I’ve never heard so many I-told-you-sos in my whole fucking life. We had a full-on domestic right in front of the nursery doors, about a week in, over Hope not getting along. It wasn’t pretty, and I’m kind of embarrassed by the whole thing, to be honest. Anyway, Hope took it upon herself to toddle in and start reading stories to the other children whilst we shouted down the walls. Just as well, because the nursery supervisor called security on us (and naturally, they cited more of the new regulations at us…) and Dad hauled us up to his office to rake our arses over the coals. He put a formal reprimand in both our files, and as soon as we got home, Mum called and started in on us.

God, it’s been frustrating. We’re supposed to be hosting Christmas tomorrow and I don’t know how we’re expected to pull that off when we’re barely talking to one another. I didn’t think being grounded for a bit would be so stressful. I guess I overestimated the Doctor’s ability to adapt. He did fine before we had our TARDIS up and running. Now, it’s like he resents me… us. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’m seriously afraid he’ll run off, or something, with Hopie, and I’ll never… never see…

Blimey, this letter got off track. I swore I wouldn’t cry. I must look a sight, and I’ve got to run. The nursery is doing a little “Frosty the Snowman” play with the “four and up” children. (We eventually decided to put Hope into _that_ group as she seems to do better with the older kids.) She’s doing all the narration! I decided it’d be easier just to stay here at Torchwood until it started (so I’m dictating this letter from work.) The Doctor went home. He said he saw the dress-rehearsal this afternoon. He sounded a bit chuffed about Hopie’s performance, but said he thought it would best if he just stayed away tonight. He’s probably right. We’d just have had another row. Mum’s meeting me here, which I’m dreading. No doubt, she’ll have a go at me about the Doctor, and I don’t think I’ll be able to take it.

I wonder if everything will be better when we go off in the TARDIS again. I doubt it. I don’t really think this is about him being Earth-bound. What if he doesn’t love… I mean he’s slept alone in his study for the last two weeks. We used to be a team. We did everything together and now we... I miss him, Santa.

(Right, pull it together, Tyler.)

Santa, I’m signing off. You don’t need to hear all my crap. It seems the things I really want for Christmas these days aren’t things you can give me. And this year, I just want our little family to _be_ a family again.  Thanks for listening, anyway. I hope you and Mrs. Claus and the reindeer and elves have a lovely Christmas.

**Love, Rose**

**P.S.:** I just _had_ to give you an update! Mum drove me and Hope home after the play (Hope was brilliant, by the way! Stole the show!) Anyway, Mum was really quiet the whole way, which was kind of unnerving; I was expecting a lot more shouting. So when she pulls up to the house, I get out and she says she’ll bring Hopie in. And I’m just up the steps, fumbling with my keys, when she speeds off down the drive. There was nothing much I could do about it. Hope was safe with her Gran… but I had to be alone with the Doctor. God, I was dreading opening the door; I’d rather have faced the entire Slitheen family than the man I loved with all my heart. I remember thinking there were pretty good odds he was holed up in his study, and I could sneak upstairs before he even knew I was home. I obviously was a bit delusional, ‘cause looking back, it was clear I’d been set up. Big time!

So I tried to sneak in, but there he was, standing right there waiting for me. It’s still all so clear in my mind. He had candles lit everywhere, and the fire was going, and I could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. He was playing a really pretty Christmas song, _Christmas Without You_ , I think it’s called. It all reminded me of the time when he was trying to apologize to me a few years back, after he refused to come to our first ultrasound appointment. When he finds an approach that works for him, he sticks with it, I’ll give him that.

Course, I come straight out and ask him what the hell’s going on. I was really, really trying to be pissed off, but he was standing there wearing that bloody red cashmere sweater I gave him last year, and his hair was so fucking touchable, and his beard was this gorgeous scruffy stubble, and that pouty lower lip… guuuuhh, you should have _seen_ him! Then, he just holds out his hands to me, and tells me we need to talk.

Well he got that right!

We didn’t exactly talk though… not right away. But we made good use of the nice soft rug in front of the fireplace, and we might have said something about how much we missed each other, and we both said “sorry” and “I love you”. And then, I couldn’t help it: I blurted out how sometimes I was frightened he would leave me. He vowed he _never, ever_ would. He was so upset I had ever thought he might, he was crying. We both were, actually.

Well, Mum brought Hope back after a bit, and looked a little too happy to see me dressed in nothing but the red cashmere, and didn’t even try to wind up the Doctor about only wearing his pants. She said she would’ve given us the whole night but reckoned we wanted to have Hope spend Christmas morning at home with us.

After Hope hung her stocking and _finally_ fell asleep (it took four chapters of Treasure Island and a reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas to settle her she was so excited), me and the Doctor finally got around to eating that fantastic dinner he’d made, and we _really_ talked. Turns out he thinks I’m right: we should spend more time on Earth for Hope’s sake, for all of us. Not all the time, but more than we have been. He reckons being stuck with me and Hope here on Earth’s not so bad. We decided we’d just play it by ear and work out the details as we go along.

Looks like it’s going to be a happy Christmas after all!


	3. December 24, 2018 (Prompt: Skating)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose reminisces about her year, including a well-needed vacation with the Doctor and the unexpected outcome of their time spent alone together, changes in their routines, Hope's new interests, and the Doctor’s cold-weather outdoor project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my eternal gratitude to mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula, my wonderful, ever-giving betas.
> 
> A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today is _Skating_.

* * *

December 24th, 2018

**Dear Father Christmas,**

What a year we’ve had! Such a great year! So much has happened, I don’t even know where to begin. I suppose I could start with our romantic vacation to Barcelona (definitely the planet, not the city!) The Doctor surprised me on Valentine’s day; said he arranged for a romantic get-away. After all the rowing and bickering over Christmas last year, we both needed a little time for just the two of us. Mum and Pete were over the moon to have a chance to look after Hope for a couple of weeks, so that was one less worry.

Gaudí Province was gorgeous: it was spring, and beautifully warm, such a nice break from the bleak winter weather we left behind in London. There were flowers and blossoms everywhere. And the dogs! The dogs really didn’t have noses. It was so weird, but there you have it: life with the Doctor! And of course, he had to make that joke… it just wasn’t funny, _especially_ after the hundredth time, and I told him so. He just grinned and told me I had no appreciation for good humour. I showed him I had a great sense of humour: I couldn’t stop laughing when the cutest little noseless dog had it off on his leg, right in the middle of the street.

Actually, to tell the truth, spring must definitely have been in the air; the dogs all seemed to be rather randy. They weren’t the only ones. Me and the Doctor spent a lot of time in our hotel room on that trip. It was so lovely to be together and share our bond just for the sake of sharing it. Back home and on other trips with the TARDIS, the bond was a really useful tool for communicating and keeping a track of Hope, but we’d got out of the habit of just enjoying it. And when we were angry, we usually avoided using it altogether or shielded ourselves from one another. I hadn’t realized until we really let our guards down just how shielded we had been.

We came back from that trip so much more in tune with one another. I, personally, came back well and truly up the duff. And so this year, Santa, you’ll get to meet our little Charlie (Charlotte… named after Charles Dickens.) She’s a feisty one, she is. She just turned one month old a few days ago and is finally sleeping through the night. (Well for four hours in a row, but I’ll take it.) I’d forgotten how knackered you feel, and add a nearly three-year-old into the mix… blimey! Let’s just say, me and the Doctor are back to using our bond for almost exclusively utilitarian purposes.

Poor Hope. She’s brilliant, she is, but even though she’s academically beyond gifted, she’s still just a little girl whose life has been turned upside down by the little human larva that takes up so much of her Daddy’s and my time. She never wants my attention more than when I’m feeding Charlie. For the first few weeks, I was a right mess every time I looked at her. I couldn’t stop crying because I couldn’t give her the time I used to. But now things are settling down, and we’re finding a rhythm. Still, I’m so thankful it’s Mum’s turn to do Christmas this year. I think I might have exploded if I’d had to juggle that too.

Over this past year, and after everything that happened last Christmas, me and the Doctor agreed to spend a bit more time Earthbound. We explore strange new worlds in the TARDIS during the week, and on weekends we spend time in our little blue house and take Hope to various activities: dance and gymnastics are her favourites. She loves art too, and likes to spend time painting with me, just as I’d hoped she would. She has a keen eye, but I’m so thankful her skills are pretty much just like that of any other child her age. Her colourful creations are all over the TARDIS, our house, and Gran and Grandad’s house, too.

We also decided to spend extended periods on Earth around special Earth holidays. So, Christmas, for example, same as last year, we’ll be on Earth for at least a month, and with Charlie here this year, I think we’ll stay on a few months more. Hope’s enrolled at Torchwood Nursery again and is thriving. And the Doctor seems to be actually happy with the domestics, especially when he sees how much Hope is getting out of it.

Speaking of the Doctor and domestics: the weather this year has been so cold! But the Doctor, in a complete fit of domesticity, has been taking full advantage. He’s spent every evening for the last couple of weeks creating our very own skating rink in the back garden. He laid down layers and layers of ice with some gizmo he tinkered together attached to the garden hose, and soniced the surface completely smooth. He and Hope decorated the entire yard with fairy lights. There’s a big evergreen right in the centre of the rink that’s just covered with lights. It’s beautiful. And somehow he’s set up big, tall floodlights that light up the whole rink at night.

Last night, we got to go skating for the first time. Mum and Dad and Tony were there and loads of friends from Torchwood, and some of Hope’s playmates and their families. We did a potluck, so that was easy. Mum and Dad went and bought loads of pairs of skates in case some folks didn’t have their own. It was so much fun! Just what I needed!

You should have seen the Doctor trying to skate. My poor love. The way he’d been talking, he was so excited to be introducing Hope to this great new adventure. He was a brilliant skater when I first met him. Me and Jack and him all went skating once. He was really good, but he’d never tried again since his regeneration. Apparently, the skill didn’t stick with his new body. Oh, God, he was all long legs pinwheeling around, and he ended up on his bum more times than I can count. He was miserable, and after I popped inside with Charlie for a nappie change, I came out to find him sulking on one of the benches he’d set up, glowering at Mum skating in pretty circles with Hope hanging onto her hands.

I went over to cheer him up and suggested _I_ could hold _his_ hand. He just grumbled at me, and told me there must be something wrong with the ice. “Too risky, Rose Tyler. In fact, I should bring Hope in right now; she could be in danger, even as we speak.” (I said that in _his_ voice. I hope I did it right. I’ve been getting good at it over the years!) Meanwhile, Hope was twirling all by herself, now, quite in control. No danger whatsoever. Tony was watching out for her, just like a big brother. He loves her so much.

In the end the only way I convinced the Doctor to come skating with me was by going out there myself first (Charlie was bundled in the baby-carrier against my chest) and the Doctor was immediately on his feet, making to follow me, with the notion that he needed to keep me safe. Of all the ridiculous… The big plonker!

Anyway, the first thing he did was fall on his arse and nearly knock me over! So I told him he _had_ to hold my hand from then on. Mum sailed by and offered to bring him a chair to hold onto which wasn’t entirely helpful, and called him a duffer. Also not helpful.

I finally passed the baby off to her Grandad, and got the Doctor back on his feet, and convinced him to take my hand. I reminded him that _that_ was all he really needed to get across the universe: a hand to hold. He grabbed my hand and opened his bond fully to me, and I’ve never felt so loved. His body seemed to relax and we did a few circuits of the rink together. Then he did a few on his own, and spun around me in a slightly wobbly circle while I watched him. Then he grabbed me by the waist and I just flung my arms over his shoulders so he wouldn’t overbalance us ‘cause my feet were slipping everywhere. Suddenly he’s shouting and twirling us around (I’ll try to do his voice again) “Rose, I’ve just remembered! I can skate! I can skate!” And he starts humming Glenn Miller in my ear and dancing with me over the ice!

Now he’s talking about getting a skating rink on the TARDIS!

I hope we’ll go skating again tonight! Just the two of us, once the little ones are all tucked in and their stockings are hung.

Happy Christmas, Santa! To you and Mrs. Claus, the reindeer, and all the elves,

**Love, Rose**


	4. December 24, 2019 (Prompt: Holiday Baking)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jackie Tyler wants you to help her bake, a biscuit is never just a biscuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my lovely betas, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula, who are altogether too soft on me, sometimes. I appreciate everything they do to help me make my stories better.
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their _31 Days of Ficmas_ prompts. The one I’m using today is _Holiday Baking_

* * *

December 24th, 2019

** Dear Father Christmas, **

I should have known better than agree to holiday baking with my mum, yesterday. When Jackie Tyler wants you to help her bake, a biscuit is never just a biscuit, and a Christmas pudding is never just a Christmas pudding. I learned that the hard way when I was a kid: she always knows when you’ve been up to something; or when something’s wrong and you’re not telling; and sometimes she knows something about you that you haven’t even worked out for yourself yet. Those last are the worst. You sort of push her meddling to the back of your mind, and then suddenly a few days later something happens and it turns out she was right all along. Then you have to listen to the “Didn’t I say so…” for hours on end, if not to your face, then second-hand to one of her friends on the phone.

I wonder if I’ll ever have a sixth Mum-sense like that. These days, I never know whether I’m coming or going, and it seems I’m always one step behind, just trying to keep up with Hope and Charlie. And it’s only got worse with Christmas on the way. How am I supposed to perform this bloody supernatural Mum-detection thing, when I can’t even remember what I did five minutes ago? I’m just so bone-tired.

It must have been because I was so knackered that I agreed to the baking: I clearly wasn’t thinking straight. In my sleep-deprived state, it sounded like it might be a nice way to spend the afternoon. The Doctor was taking the girls down to the shops to pick up some last-minute Christmas presents, and if there was time, they were going to stop by the museum, and he was happy to take Tony and Pete along as well. That meant no one would be underfoot and me and Mum might actually get something accomplished. And it would be nice just to spend some one-on-one time with her… So I thought.

I’d no sooner started adding the butter and the sugar to the mixing bowl, when I noticed the side-eye, and the little huffs. I tried to ignore it, but really I knew I was just putting off the inevitable. It didn’t take long: “You’re not looking yourself, sweetheart,” was out of her mouth before I could add the vanilla and turn the mixer on.

Of course I wasn’t looking myself. I spent my days trying to pick up after two little whirlwinds with brains the size of planets. Then of course, the next thing was: “Is there something you’re not telling me, Rose?” I mean, what could I possibly not be telling her? The conversation headed very quickly into the she-knows-something-I-don’t-know-but-I’ll-find-out-two-days-later territory. Like I needed the additional stress. I snapped at her which earned me a sharp wallop across the bum with her wooden spoon. But at least she was quiet after that, though the constant side-eye spoke volumes all on its own.

It wasn’t until we were icing the biscuits that the topic came up again, and then she cut all the crap and got right to specifics: “When did you last have your monthly, sweetheart?” Well, the icing splattered out of the piping bag I was holding in a big, ugly blob. I mean, _what the hell?_ Honestly, how am I supposed to know when I last had my period? I’ve been kind of all irregular since Charlie was born. I’ve been breastfeeding, yeah, and that seems to muck things up for me. Besides, like I said before, I can barely remember what I had for lunch, never mind… well, _that_. It’s probably been a couple of months, but I can’t be sure.

Anyway, it’s been eating away at me ever since Mum brought it up. I did nothing but toss and turn all night, worrying. Drove the Doctor completely bonkers, but I didn’t want to let on why I’m worried. I have no idea how he’ll feel about it, and I don’t want to trouble him or get his hopes up unnecessarily. So first thing this morning, I went out to Tesco’s for some groceries, and I stopped at the chemist along the way.

And here I am, dictating this letter while I wait to see if there’s a little plus sign or a little minus sign waiting for me in the bathroom. As if I need to see the test. Mum’s sixth sense is infallible. I don’t think she’s ever been wrong. But still, I’m almost hoping she is, just this once. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to handle another baby on top of the two I already have. Blimey!

All right, I’m going to go check. Father Christmas, you’ll be the first to hear the official news, one way or the other, not just the Jackie Tyler version.

\--ooOoo--

I’m back, and I can hardly stop smiling! I feel so bloody happy! It’s a plus sign. Another little Tyler-Noble on the way! I just didn’t expect to be so happy about it. I mean, just a couple of minutes ago, I wasn’t sure, but now… I’m certain I would’ve been crushed if it had come out negative.

God, I’ll have to tell the Doctor! What do you think: should I wrap up the test and give it to him for Christmas tomorrow morning or should I just tell him now? If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep the secret. I reckon it’ll be bursting over our bond no matter what kind of shielding I try to put up. Oh, I’ve got to go tell him now! I can’t wait! The girls are in their room, playing quietly, and he’s still in bed… we could _celebrate_. 

And as for Mum… I’ll make some biscuits of my own and wrap one up with the announcement iced onto it as a Christmas treat. Because after all, with Jackie Tyler, a biscuit can never be just a biscuit.

Happy Christmas, Santa, to you and Mrs. Claus and everyone at the North Pole! Hope your Christmas surprises are as nice as mine!

** love, Rose **


	5. December 24, 2020 (Prompt: Scarf)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jackie won’t allow Tony to travel on the TARDIS, the Doctor finds a way to bring the stars to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternal gratitude to mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula for being such great betas and sounding boards.
> 
> Please check out the wonderful cover art by the brilliant Rose_Nebula. It can be found at the beginning of the story or here: [Baby’s First Christmas](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Baby-s-First-Christmas-718479335)
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Scarf_

* * *

December 24th, 2020

 **Dear Father Christmas** ,

My mum is driving us mental! Completely mental! We’ve wanted to take Tony with us on the TARDIS for a few years, now, and she’s digging her heels in… big time!

Toto’s a great kid, with a good head on his shoulders. He has a fantastic sense of adventure, without the rebellious streak I had. He doesn’t get into trouble, so he’s always had a pretty good relationship with his teachers. He does really well at school, and is desperate to learn as much about science as he possibly can. Mum must think she’s in heaven compared to everything I’ve put her through over the years.

One thing she doesn’t particularly appreciate is how he practically worships the Doctor; he has done since he was tiny, before the Doctor even met him. I was always telling him stories about our adventures on the TARDIS. I even made him his very own TARDIS for the garden when he was three, and then, when the Doctor came to stay, he made Tony his own light-up toy version of a sonic on the first Christmas he was here.

Dad’s grooming Tony to take over Torchwood eventually. He asked _me_ , but I couldn’t do a job like that: I’m too full of wanderlust, yeah. And, let’s face it, even though I got those degrees in astro and temporal physics so I could help with the Dimension Cannon, science and desk work really isn’t my thing. Tony will be the perfect candidate, once he’s grown a good foot and gained a few stone. He seems keen to do it, as much as any kid knows what they want to do with their lives, at that age. Dad’s not pushy though. If Tony says no a few years down the road, he’ll be disappointed, but he’ll understand.

Anyroad, given the nature of the job, dealing with extraterrestrial beings and such, _and_ their technologies on a daily basis, me and the Doctor had been thinking it would be a sensible idea to start taking him along on a few trips with us on the TARDIS.

We made the huge mistake of suggesting it to him and getting his hopes up, at the beginning of the summer, _before_ we consulted Mum. We really botched things up. Neither he nor Mum would talk to us for weeks. And he wasn’t talking to Mum, either. Thank goodness little Wilfred came along at the end of June, else Mum probably still wouldn’t be talking; but where her first grandson was concerned, she softened up a fair bit.

But she still wouldn’t budge about Toto going for field trips in the TARDIS. She reckoned she would lose him to the Doctor, the way she lost me. And I don’t think she’s ever forgiven the Doctor for that missing year when I first started traveling with him. She told us she wasn’t letting her son anywhere near “that bloody ship” of ours, or words to that effect. Then she said: “Just you watch. He’ll swan off with you, it’ll be a bit of a lark and, when he comes back, he’ll be fifty years old and I’ll have missed his whole life!” Blimey, a bit melodramatic there, Mum. I mean, she needs to consider how careful we are these days about keeping the timelines strictly in sync specifically so that kind of thing doesn’t happen. And we always triple-check navigation so we always know where and when we land, and we make sure it’s safe before we go blundering out the door. And as for Tony, he’s not quite like me: not so prone to wandering off.

But I guess I get it. She’s frightened. I’m a mum myself, now, so I have a good sense of how she must feel. Left out; left behind. There’s so little time you have with your kids before they’re grown up and moving on with their own lives. As much as you want them to experience everything they can in life, you can’t help also wanting to protect them and keep them by your side.

But Toto’s growing up! Eleven years old, this past April! I can hardly believe it! Though, he’s still young enough to love playing in his backyard TARDIS, especially when his little nieces come over to join in the fun. They had great summer hols together. But, once autumn rolled around and Wilfred was three months old, we took to the stars again. We’re only home on weekends now, and poor Tony really misses the playtime with the girls, even though they’re so little compared to him. I’m sure he’s jealous as all hell about the time they get to spend on the TARDIS, though he’s good enough to never let on to them.

The Doctor’s made a point of spending time with him on the weekends, tutoring him, expanding on the information he was getting in science at school, and letting him help with tinkering projects. He and Tony lie out in the back garden for hours and hours in the dark, stargazing, just the two of them.

He decided to make Tony his very own telescope for Christmas. He insisted if we couldn’t take him to the stars, we’d do everything we could to bring the stars to him. I suggested we could just buy one, order it from Amazon, but the Doctor said that was “a bit rubbish” and wouldn’t hear of it. _His_ telescope was going to be infinitely better somehow (somehow that I couldn’t make heads or tails of.) We scoured the galaxy for just the right parts. It was a bit challenging since we’re still getting to know _this_ universe, but we found some great shopping spots!

We found this brilliant 78th Century bazaar in the Frigenni Cluster. The Doctor was on the prowl for bits for the eyepiece of the telescope, and he suddenly took a detour right into a clothing store of all things! He found this ridiculously long, striped, multicoloured scarf, and insisted on buying it.

Of course I asked him what the fuck he was thinking, and he told me it was a dead ringer for a scarf he once wore several bodies back. Why was I not surprised? When I asked him if he hadn’t tripped over it all the time, he just said, “Nah, it was very well behaved.”  I offered to get him it for Christmas, or for his “birthday” which was coming up on December 14th. But it turns out he wanted it for Tony. He’d told him about that regeneration’s scarf once years ago and Tony’d been obsessed with the idea.

Santa, I won’t lie, I thought I was going to cry. I love that man more every day, for all he does for my family and for ours.

I can hardly wait to see that little boy’s face when he opens his gift this year! He’ll probably have to wrap that scarf around him twenty times so it doesn’t trail all over the place, and then he and the Doctor will disappear into the garden to set up the telescope. I hope it’s a clear night for them.

Father Christmas, I hope you and your North Pole family have as much love in your hearts this year as I do. Three healthy children, a brilliant brother, a great dad, an infuriating but loving mum, and the best husband ever: I’m blessed in every way. I couldn’t ask for more.

Safe travels,

**love, Rose**


	6. December 24, 2021 (Prompt: Candy Canes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose is beyond frustrated when the children’s creative intelligence results in an explosion of melted candy canes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my thanks to my darling betas mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula for offering their unstinting support and insightful comments. ((((hugs, ladies))))
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Candy Canes_

* * *

December 24th, 2021

** Dear Father Christmas, **

Ooooooh, some days I just want to tear my hair out. Today, in case you couldn’t guess, is one of them. It was completely mad! The Doctor aggroed (full Oncoming Bah Humbug), the TARDIS is in a snit, the children are in solitary lock-up until the foreseeable future (imposed by aggro-Doctor), and I have candy cane melted into my hair. The smell of burned sugar is everywhere! And on top of all that we’re expected at Mum and Dad’s in a few hours for Christmas Eve, and I’m not even sure we can pilot the TARDIS in her current state. We’ve been travelling this past week, so Mum suggested we could stay at the mansion overnight tonight and open pressies with them Christmas morning. Honestly I just want to go to bed and stay there for a very, _very_ long time.

Even though it’s completely against everything me and the Doctor agreed on, this is one of those days when it’s really tempting to consider cheating a little with the timelines and stealing a few hours to give us a chance to get it together. It’ll never happen, but it’s sure nice to think about.

Actually, the whole of autumn has been a bit of a challenge, if I’m being completely honest. We decided to do try something new this year. When the school year began in September, we enrolled Hope at her _own_ age level to help her to socialize (that’s another story! Let’s just say, some attitude adjustment was necessary.) That meant taking the TARDIS out on the weekends to explore and educate the children, Doctor-style, which was lovely. But, it also meant the two kiddies left at home during the week whilst Hope was at school weren’t having their intelligence challenged as much as would be considered ideal… for _them_. It’s a constant battle trying to keep on top of them to figure out what they’ll get into next.

I don’t quite remember why we didn’t enroll them in the Torchwood Nursery… Some nonsense about me needing to be home to do the school-run, morning and afternoon, and since they had each other for company, they might as well stay home too and drive me mental while they were at it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Santa, it was a mutual decision between me and the Doctor. We talked it over and decided since he’s enjoying working in the Torchwood labs so much, he should keep doing it, and he relieves me whenever I really need it. It’s just some days I find myself questioning my life choices... 

Anyway, the upshot of it is, this past week, we thought we’d give ourselves a nice break. We took Hope out of school a week early for a few days of hols before settling back to Earth-life over Christmas. It started out great, exploring cave life on Naotol-ri-Pibol one day and observing the process of the Grand Canyon gradually forming over eons from the TARDIS doors the next. (That little trick always floors me: to have the TARDIS hover in one point in space, but move through time, so the evolution of the planet plays out like a time-lapse film before your eyes! Brilliant!) But our final stop, yesterday, was the _absolute_ best Christmas planet in either universe: 63 rd Century Yultidia! I know, I know, the name is cheesier than my mum’s festive nutty cheese ball, but it sure makes up for it in many wonderful ways.

You’d love Yultidia, Santa, for a chance to get away. It’s completely impractical and over-the-top, not at _all_ suited for building toys, but still everything’s decked out in Christmas cheer. And there’s so much to do: reindeer-pulled sleigh rides (not that that’s anything special for you), shops, carnivals and amusement parks, ice skating, sledding, and all kinds of other winter sports. There’s brilliant, posh hotels and restaurants, the ultimate hot chocolate, and the most wonderful spas… ever! You can guess where I spent most of _my_ time. You and Mrs. Claus should come and treat yourselves to a post-Christmas massage some year. You deserve it!

(I could bloody use another massage, myself, right about now.)

So, while I was enjoying my day at the spa, the Doctor and the brood went exploring. They went snow tubing and they each got to ride a reindeer. And then they went shopping…

Hope, being the most diplomatic of them all (and not just because she’s the eldest… it’s just her nature) convinced her pushover of a Daddy (she has him wound around every single one of her little fingers) to allow the three of them to buy, in addition to a soft toy each, Christmas decorations to add to Gran and Grandad’s setup this year. Of course they chose the tackiest, most garish multicoloured garland possible. Now I’m not talking about tinsel-garland, yeah. I’m talking about fake metallic tree branches in every shade of the rainbow and then some. A bit naff. Not that Mum would mind one little bit. Even though she’s gone a bit posh, living in luxury these last few years, she could never be accused of being particularly sophisticated in her decorating tastes. And besides if her grandkids want something, her grandkids get it.

They also bought a huge box of candy canes to hang from the garland, and no doubt from other places as well, given the quantity of them. I’m not quite sure what the Doctor had been thinking, allowing them to buy so many. Probably thinking with his sweet tooth instead of his brain.

Anyway, they picked me up from the spa, and we all went to a restaurant to have our tea. Soooo good! They have Christmas Chips! I can’t begin to explain the flavour. Gooorgeous! So after enjoying some hot chocolate and mince pies for dessert we all headed back to the TARDIS. Me and the Doctor left the three kids to play in the console room. They were looking all innocent, oohing and awing over their purchases and plotting where they would hang everything when they got to the mansion. Basically, they seemed content, so we headed down to the family room to watch some Scrooge. _Biggest mistake ever_ … but we wouldn’t know that until this afternoon.

In retrospect, we _should_ have known. The three of them were being awfully quiet for children who were “playing”, but we were just so happy to have a quiet evening to snuggle together, we didn’t want to jinx it. When the movie was over, I went to get them ready for bed. They had already tidied up the garland and candy canes, and Wilf was nodding off, hugging his new stuffie reindeer. I got them all into a bath to wash the glitter off them, then into their new Christmas jimjams and straight to bed. Nothing seemed amiss. Same this morning when I made banana pancakes in Christmas shapes for breakfast, although there was rather a little too much chatter about them getting to see Father Christmas (you!) hiding pressies under the tree this year.

We decided to spend a little longer on Yultidia. They all wanted me to go tubing with them! So much bloody fun! Then we had lunch and bought a pile of Christmas goodies for Mum, Dad, and Tony, and gifts for Hope’s teachers and the folks at Torchwood. They’d get them a little late, but that’s okay. I know you’re thinking “time machine”, Santa, but remember, me and the Doctor agreed not to cheat with the timelines, and anyway, those sweets are worth the wait.  

We all bundled back into the TARDIS, and got ready to go: the kids were all buckled in and squirming, so excited to show Gran the garland. The Doctor did his usual dance around the console switching switches and pushing buttons, and I followed behind, making sure everything was set just right, then both of us once again. I know it sounds tedious, but these days… safety first!

Then, the Doctor’s running his hands through his hair and telling me “Something doesn’t feel quite right. Something’s off. I just can’t put my finger on it.” And as he’s fishing for his sonic, I can’t help but see our three little angels giving each other guilty looks and biting their little lower lips. And all I can think is “Oh, bloody hell…”

Next thing I hear is the buzz of the sonic, then a violent rumbling coming from the candy cane box under the console, and I’m throwing myself between it and the children as fast as I can. Flames come shooting out of the box, and the Doctor’s just standing there gawping and saying “What?” over and over. I mean, at this point, Doctor, does it matter?

Suddenly the whole thing explodes, bits of melted and burning candy cane go soaring around the console room, sticking to everything. And believe me, hot candy cane burns are not to be taken lightly. The stuff was everywhere, in our hair, on our clothes (the kids had managed to come out of it with only a little stickiness, thank goodness.) But, worst of all, some of the molten sweet had seeped into the TARDIS controls.

The Doctor lost it. _Completely_ lost it. I could see he was scared shitless. Things could have been so much worse, and he was over-reacting as a result. Like I said earlier, he put the kids in solitary time-out rooms. They were blubbering and apologizing and begging. At least Hope and Charlie were. Poor Wilfred, was just sobbing and sucking his thumb, really frightened and not quite realizing why his Daddy was so angry.

After the kids were settled, the Doctor gingerly ran his sonic over the TARDIS console and deemed it would be hours before she’d be ready to fly again. She just grumbled and dimmed her lights. I wonder if she would enjoy a nice spa treatment…?

Anyway, the Doctor just went down to interrogate the little hooligans, so I’m taking the time to record my letter to you now.

Holy crap! Hang on just a minute, Santa! Now, that plonker is crowing away to the kids about how brilliant they are. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he is! And they’re all laughing and talking some bloody technobabble language I swear they all made up. I’ll make them laugh, all right! I’ll be right back. Looks like Mummy Scrooge is going to have to step in after all.

\--ooOoo--

I’m back! Honestly, that man is such a pushover! If I hadn’t stepped in… The brood may be little but they’re definitely smart enough to learn that they have to be held accountable for their actions. I saw their faces when Daddy thought there was something wrong, and they knew it was probably their doing. So accountability! No matter how clever their little invention was!

So, right now, they’re giving the TARDIS her “day at the spa”. They damaged her, and they can fix her up again. They’re polishing and buffing her, and the Doctor is helping them take apart the damaged bits and they’re all putting them back together. The Doctor’s even letting Hope use his sonic for the really stuck-on candy, and the TARDIS is humming in appreciation. My lovely, baby TARDIS. She’s such an important part of our family and it doesn’t hurt for us to remember that once in a while.

In case you’re wondering, it turns out the little inventors were devising a surveillance system to watch for you coming down the chimney. They had rigged each and every candy cane with miniature cameras they found in one of their father’s storage cabinets. (To answer the burning question that must be on your mind: no, I don’t know why he had them. I think it must have been from when Hope was small and he wanted to be able to keep an eye on her everywhere she went.) Anyway, long story short, they rigged them up incorrectly (they were a bit dodgy to begin with, mind) using some wiring they had pinched from under the TARDIS console that was completely incompatible. So, when the Doctor activated his sonic, he ended up reversing the polarity of the neutron flow (or some rubbish like that) and **_BLAM!_** Candy cane fireworks!

All I can say, is thank goodness we found out about it _before_ we got to Mum and Dad’s. Can you just imagine Mum’s reaction to having peppermint-scented goo all over her living room? Blimey, what a nightmare that would have been!

Well, it’s time for everyone to get bathed and dressed again (right into their jimjams, I’m thinking.) Then off to the mansion to put up some rather naff garland (minus the candy canes!), hang some stockings, and as it’s been a very long day, a quick tea and off to bed. 

Happy Christmas! Love to all, Santa. And here’s hoping you don’t encounter any exploding candy canes on your travels tonight!

** love, Rose **


	7. December 24th, 2022 (Prompt: Bells)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony decides to run away a few days before Christmas, the Tyler household is in an uproar, but he learns a valuable lesson in his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to my wonderful beta team, Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci. You two are the very best!
> 
> A little angst and hurt/comfort. I love this one. Please enjoy.
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Bells_.

* * *

December 24th, 2022

**Dear Father Christmas,**

Sometimes things seem to happen at the most inconvenient times, and it can be incredibly frustrating. And sometimes it seems those frustrating experiences happen for a reason, that the universe has a grand plan. What happened this past week was one of those experiences.

Me and the Doctor had just taken the TARDIS out on an unexpected diplomatic mission for Torchwood to Trunfleerin, a small Earth-like planet in the Gamma Quadrant. Because of the official nature of the mission, and because we were bringing several other people along, we decided it was best to leave the kids with Mum and Dad. It was a bit of a wrench, though, leaving the family this close to Christmas. Sometimes these missions end up taking way longer than expected, and while we have a time ship at our beck and call, we’ve vowed not to “time it” unless absolutely necessary. We use the TARDIS for time travel, yes, but just to visit places in the past and future; we never use it to make up for lost time in our own timeline, however tempting. The Doctor could cite all kinds of reasons for this, but for me, the most important one is that it whittles away the time you get to spend enjoying your forever with your family, ‘cause you’re aging yourself faster relative to them.

So when the invitation came in from the Trunfleerineen, as Extraterrestrial Ambassador to Earth, I couldn’t exactly decline, no matter how close to Christmas it was.

One of the Trunfleerineen ships had crash-landed on Earth, a little over a year ago and they’d been impressed with the kind welcome and aid they’d received from us Earthlings. They wanted to thank us for our generosity, and said they’d be honoured if we could stay for a few days and participate in the “Mourning” with them.

The Doctor told us, back in the Prime Universe, the Trunfleerineen were utterly decimated by a species called the Annexians; they’re sort of parasitic, I guess, unable to reproduce the normal way. There’s a long history there I’m not going to get into at the moment, but anyway, apparently they’re notorious all over the quadrant for kidnapping the young of other species to gradually and painfully turn them into Annexians through genetic manipulation. Only the _children_ of a species will do, as they’re still developing. Once they reach adulthood, they are only good for slavery or breeding.

The Trunfleerineen are basically humanoid in appearance, with beautiful dark skin, huge green and yellow eyes, and tall tufted ears. They’re gorgeous, but they’re very delicate: small and slender, with fragile bones. Completely vulnerable. The Doctor says the low gravity on their planet probably contributed to that. The point is, being built the way they were, they were useless as slave labour, and in the Prime Universe they were slaughtered. In this universe, they were spared. No one knows why. Maybe the Annexians plan to come back and harvest them later. At any rate, they’re just thankful for a second chance, but they’ve been left devastated by the loss of their children. The Mourning ceremony we will be attending is held annually to honour those lost souls.

We’d been there a couple of days, visiting various sites all over their beautiful world, meeting the first baby born after the invasion (he was only four years old, Charlie’s age; every single child on that planet was younger than him), and attended several diplomatic functions. Just prior to the Mourning ceremony was a banquet of thanks for the lives spared and for the newly created lives that had a chance at a better future.

At the banquet, I was seated next to one of the females; Thir was her name. She had me in tears telling me about her babies who were taken, and her mate who was killed defending them. She was just telling me how she had been chosen to open the Mourning ceremony this year, when I was interrupted by my mobile blaring out the Imperial March from my pocket.

Mum.

She was completely frantic. Tony’d run away, and they couldn’t find him… anywhere! It was like he’d just disappeared off the face of the Earth (Mum’s words but I couldn’t help wondering if there was more truth in them than she knew.)

The day we’d left, he’d told them he was staying overnight with a friend; then they assumed he’d been at school the following day. He’d had footie practise scheduled for that night, and it wasn’t unusual for him to get in late from that. Dad was late at work and Mum had fallen asleep watching telly, exhausted by _my_ three hooligans, so they just assumed he’d slipped in unnoticed and gone to bed. So it was only the next morning when they found the horrendous note he’d left them, informing them he was sick of them telling him what he can and cannot do all the time, and that it was time he struck out on his own. That was the gist of it anyway.

I felt a weird combination of things over that call with my mum: relief that my own babies were safe and well; and a whole mess of different emotions about Tony. First of all, despite being a bit frightened for Tony (especially once Mum got a hold of him), I knew he had a good head on his shoulders and was pretty resourceful. He’d be all right. I made sure I told Mum that, but she wouldn’t listen. I could hear Dad in the background, trying to be a voice of reason, agreeing with everything I was saying.

Secondly, I was more than a bit shocked. My straight-laced brother saying stuff like that, even in a note, just blew my mind. He’s always been so… well, so _good_. Not perfect, by any means; he’s a Tyler, so his independent streak shows up quite often. But, independent or not, he’s always played by the rules. Bent them sometimes, but never broken them. Now, apparently, his “inner-Rose” is starting to show, and rule-breaking is back on the Tyler table. Blimey, right before Christmas, too! I gotta hand it to the kid, he knows how to maximize the impact of his actions. And yes, I admit, that was another thing I was feeling: a bit of (very restrained) pride.

After speaking with the Doctor, we decided I should return to Earth to help find Tony and to provide moral support for Mum. Our hosts were, of course, totally gracious about me leaving, especially with how the nature of the situation (a lost child) resonated with them. I went straight to the TARDIS and entered my coordinates (I’m quite adept at piloting, now) but had the Doctor check my settings just to be safe.

Dad texted just before I left. It turns out three days ago, Tony had been seen entering Torchwood. He’d told security he was meeting Dad for lunch. Thing was, he was never seen leaving, and he never showed for lunch. And it turns out one of the Doctor’s perception filters that he’d been working on had gone missing too. I showed the Doctor the message, and he quietly passed me his sonic. He gave me a kiss and told me he hoped I’d find Tony soon. As the doors closed behind him, I reached to press the launch button, but instead, activated the sonic, casting it around the room.

Sure enough, there was Tony, watching me in confusion from an arm chair up in the gallery. He didn’t know the perception filter wasn’t working anymore; he was just wondering why I hadn’t launched. I saw the moment the ball dropped and he realized I was making direct eye contact with him. His face turned so red. Blimey, he looked terrified.

He made his way down to me, soooo slowly, avoiding meeting my eyes, which was just as well; I was struggling to keep a stern expression on my face. I mean, half of me wanted to throttle him, but the other (somewhat smaller) half wanted to give him a high five.  

He started to panic when he saw me texting into my mobile. I told him I was just telling Mum and Dad I’d found him and that he was safe. I also told them I’d bring him back _after_ the Mourning ceremony.

Mum was probably going mental, but he wanted to travel the stars, well, this was his big opportunity.

He was about the same size as most of the Trunfleerineen, so they were able to provide us with some formal robes for him. When we walked over to meet the Doctor and take our seats in the amphitheatre around the symbolic Tree of Life, the Doctor arched a critical eyebrow at Tony and the poor boy’s face flushed beet red again. He looked like he wanted die of shame, especially faced with the Doctor’s displeasure. I’d seen the way he looked at the Doctor. I knew the look well from my reflection in the mirror, especially when I had first been traveling with him: he had a bit of a crush on the Doctor, and wanted him to be proud of him. I could hardly blame him.

As night fell, and the entire amphitheatre was finally filled, everything suddenly went quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever been to such a solemn or beautiful tribute. I don’t think I ever will again. The silence was broken by the most exquisite sound: a tiny chime in the night, the sound of a bell. It seemed to reverberate and grow, and as it grew, a single light began to shine on the Tree of Life. It was followed by two more chimes, two more lights. I could just make out my friend, Thir, standing down by the tree: this was _her_ tribute to her three lost babies. Then all around us, the air filled with the sound of hundreds upon hundreds of bells; the Tree glowed. Tears were flooding down my cheeks and when I looked at Tony, he was sobbing quietly beside me. I put my arm around him, and he snuggled against me. The Doctor draped a protective arm around us both.

Once the ceremony was concluded, we gathered our delegation and offered our gratitude and condolences to our hosts. They asked us to stay for several more nights, and I have to say, I was proud to hear Tony speak up on our behalf. I wish I could remember his exact words: something about thanking them for their generous offer, but that this time of year, for us, is one we like to spend with our families, and after the tribute he just witnessed, he really just wanted to give his _own_ mother a hug for all the worry he’d caused her. Pretty mature. I was impressed. I’d say the future of Torchwood is in pretty good hands.

He and Mum were beside themselves when we got home, yesterday. Mum was furious, but just so relieved to have him safely returned to her. It reminded me a lot of how it had been when the Doctor brought me back after being away for twelve months instead of twelve hours. Fortunately, this time, the Doctor wasn’t on the receiving end of a Jackie Tyler slap.

Hope, Charlie, and Wilfred came barrelling out to see us when they heard our voices, and Charlie, jumping up and down, asked if we’d be able to go to Yultidia again this year, since there was still another whole day until Christmas Eve. I had to give her a “we’ll see” ‘cause I wasn’t sure if Mum needed me to stick around for moral support.

As it turns out, we _did_ make it to Yultidia. Not only that, but with the help of my very persuasive children (my darling husband knew when to keep his mouth shut) we convinced Mum and Dad (mostly Mum) to put Tony’s punishment on hold for a few days (to be honest I think he’d already learned his lesson) and the entire family actually came on board the TARDIS for a trip to spend all of Christmas on Yultidia. Mum claimed she was “too bloomin’ fagged” to make Christmas dinner, this year, anyway, but if we ended up on some prehistoric planet getting eaten by dinosaurs, there’d be hell to pay.

Yultidia’s where you’ll find us tonight, Santa! Love to Mrs. Claus, the elves, and reindeer too!

**Happy Christmas, Rose**


	8. December 24th, 2023 (Prompt: Snowflake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor’s children have been campaigning their parents to get them a pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was pure fun. I was trying to come up with a critter name for the creature I was picturing when writing this. But in my mind, it looked just the way I imagined a creature briefly mentioned in one of my earlier stories (The Cupid’s Arrow - revised edition) to be like… So why not reintroduce it here? Say hello to the _Geruhundian Greehog!_
> 
> Forever and always, I am so grateful for my talented and dedicated betas, Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci. Crack that whip, ladies! I’m starting to fall behind! LOL
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their _31 Days of Ficmas_ prompts. The one I’m using today is _Snowflake _.__

* * *

December 24th, 2023

Dear Father Christmas,

My children all have different strengths and abilities, and unique, bigger-than-life personalities. It’s funny how you sometimes get glimpses of what they’ll be like as adults as you watch them grow and mature.

Hope (she’s seven years old now. Actually seven and a half!) is the relatively quiet, thoughtful one; she’s the negotiator; the healer; the musician. Once she learned she wasn’t better than the rest of the universe just because she was intelligent, she just wanted to use her intelligence to make the universe better.

Charlie has just started school this year. In addition to being every bit as intelligent as her sister, she’s clever with her hands, clever with gadgets, an engineer, an inventor, an athlete. She is fierce and strong-willed, a passionate activist who wants to save the universe, one being at a time. She’s determined to make the universe bend to her will.

Wilfred is only three and a half, but has as strong a personality as either of the girls, and a logical brain. He’s the opportunist, the puzzler; he loves nothing more than to figure things out. For such a little boy, he has a strong sense of justice: everyone and everything in their correct place. He’s not out so much to change the world as to make sure everything is working the way it’s supposed to, and that everyone gets the chance they deserve.

Alone, each is a force to be reckoned with, but when all three work together, they are indomitable, as me and the Doctor have frequently discovered in the few short years we have been blessed with their presences in our lives.

Recently, their joint effort has been to convince us to get them a pet. Now, most parents would have caved ages ago. But not us. Nope! We’re made of sterner stuff than that, yeah. And trust me, these kids have pulled out all the stops.

Their latest attempt was on Geruhundia. They spotted a baby greehog bleating in the middle of a busy avenue. All of the natives, and most of the non-natives were giving this animal a good, wide berth, yeah, and for all of the best reasons. I mean, you just had to look at this bloke to know that, even as a baby, he just isn’t pet material. But not _our_ kids. Oh, no! They were over there kneeling down and fawning over it before I could say Raxacoricofallapatorius (and I’m getting quicker at saying that, by the way, as the years goes by!)

Now I’ve never seen a greehog before, but the Doctor has told me a bit about them. They are vicious animals, with razor sharp teeth, whose mouths are almost half the size of their bodies. They are highly territorial and fiercely protective of their young. Oh, there’s the Doctor now, with my cuppa. (Ta!) He just said the greehog sounds a bit like my Mum! (I’ll tell her you said that. And I’ve just told Father Christmas. You’ll get a lump of coal in your stocking this year, you will!)

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, the baby greehog. Of course, the Doctor had disappeared on me, gone off to check out a little shop (he still loves a little shop), and we were wandering ahead on the lookout for a good place to stop for lunch, when we come across this baby greehog. I’m frantically trying to get the kids back to my side, where they bloody should be, and, at the same time, keeping an eye open for Mummy-greehog, who honestly, can’t be far behind with her baby blubbering away the way he is.

“But Mummy,” Charlie points out, “he’s orphaned. He needs someone to take care of him. We have to save him!”

I have the counter-argument all ready to go: he’s just lost. No doubt his Mummy will be along, very, very shortly.

“She may never come, Mummy,” pipes up Hope with big doe eyes. “She may be sick or injured, herself. We can’t let this little chap come to harm. I mean, look at him, how sweet he is.”

Let me tell you, Santa, there was nothing, and I mean _nothing,_ sweet about the “little chap”. He may have been enjoying cuddles at the moment, but I was pretty certain I knew the kind of creature he was going to grow into, and I told them as much.

“We juth need to gif ‘im a chanthe, Mama, to pwove he can be a good pet,” Wilfred lisped with a concerned frown crinkling his serious little face.

At this point, I admit, I’d had enough. I stepped forward, and one by one, took my babies by the hand, pulled them away from the greehog (who started whinging again as soon as the cuddles stopped), and tucked each of them behind me. Sure enough, just then, there was a huge commotion from the brush by the side of the road, and this enormous, slathering creature, easily the size of a small car, came bounding into the middle of the road, roaring at us and opening its enormous toothed mouth wide enough to swallow Wilfred whole.

I stood my ground, fully aware of the three astonished and excited little faces peeking out from behind me, and spread my arms wide, making myself look as big and threatening as possible. That greehog may have been protective of her young, but I am Jackie Tyler’s daughter and I come by that same trait honestly, myself. She also passed along to me her stubborn, pig-headedness: I was not going to back down from this threat or any other.

I was aware of the crowd we were attracting, and I suddenly catch a glimpse of pinstripes and great hair from the corner of my eye. He starts in with the “Honestly, Rose…” and then you could _hear_ the gears grinding as he takes in the scene playing out in front of him. Then: “Oh, aren’t you gorgeous! Rose, that’s a Geruhundian greehog! She’s magnificent!”

I might have used some strong language at that point, but the gist was that I fucking knew what the fucking thing was, and did he fucking think he could do something about the fucking fact that it was about to eat his whole fucking family for lunch.

“Oh, easy peasy!” And with typical Doctorish nonchalance, he pulls out his sonic and sets it to emit an ultrahigh frequency that knocks both greehogs out cold. Then he has the nerve to suggest I watch my language in front of the kids.

Anyway, the crowd dispersed, and someone from the Geruhundian equivalent of the SPCA eventually came along to relocate the mum and baby away from the public. I decided we would get lunch _to go_. I’d had enough of Geruhundia to last a lifetime.

That happened over a month ago now, and while they’ve been campaigning hard, I’m proud to say the kids have yet to break down our resolve to get them a pet.

Life’s funny though, and comes back to bite you in the arse sometimes.

Like I said before, you often get glimpses of what your kids will be like as adults as you watch them play and learn, but sometimes you even catch glimpses of yourself in them. I shared my compassion with Hope, and my headstrong convictions about right and wrong with Charlie. (I’ve also been known to bend the universe to my will, once in a while.) In Wilfred, I see my passionate belief that everyone should get a proper chance in life.

So when I saw that scrawny white kitten floundering through the snow at the end of our drive today, nearly collapsing with exhaustion and starvation, I just couldn’t let her suffer. It wasn’t right, when I could do something to help the sweet baby. After all, she deserved a chance to be a part of a good, loving family, just like anyone else.

Her name is Snowflake, because she’s so delicate and pretty and white, and she’s Mummy’s cuddly little girl, (aren’t you, my love?)

The Doctor’s had a thing or two to say about Snowflake, but among the many traits I’ve passed on to my children, the most powerful of all is knowing how to keep their daddy wrapped around their little fingers. With all four of us working on him, he never stood a chance.

Snowflake is here to stay, a Christmas gift for us all.

Happy Christmas to you, Santa, and Mrs. Claus, and all the elves and reindeer too!

** love, Rose **


	9. December 24th, 2024 (Prompt: Shiver)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor have been planning to spend a romantic Christmas Eve alone, but Rose gets cold feet about the outfit she’s chosen to wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene depicted in this fic, was based on a scene I created for a drabble, a couple of Christmases ago, [Untitled (16)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5404433) Strangely enough, the prompt for that fic was also _shiver!_
> 
> Much love to my wonderful betas, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula. The hive mind is a great thing, and I appreciate their friendship and creativity, even when the result is the phrase “Slitheen of Solace: Exchanging Gas across the cosmos.” Please don’t ask… I’m not sure I could give you a sensible answer!
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Shiver_.

* * *

December 24th, 2024

Dear Father Christmas,

It seems like forever since the Doctor and I had a romantic evening all to ourselves. And I don’t mean a night out on the town, or a romantic vacation; I mean eating in and snuggling under a cozy blanket, just the two of us. It’s been years!

Don’t get me wrong. I love my children, but sometimes I miss the privacy we used to have when it was just us; when we used to have sex wherever we pleased, whenever the mood took us. And it took us a lot: on the kitchen table; leaning over his desk; in the shower; on the way up the stairs; in front of the fire; and on the terrace, under the stars. Basically, anywhere and everywhere. 

(Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Sorry, Santa, you must be wanting to bleach your eyes out after reading that! Talk about TMI! I wasn’t even thinking. Just pass this letter over to Mrs. Claus, if you don’t want to read it, because it’s a long story, and more likely than not the content rating going to go up. But I’m thinking she might be able to relate...)  

Anyway, those days of… erm… uninhibited sex are long gone. And we’ve gained so much more in return, but it’d be nice to just share an evening with my husband once in a while.

I’ve wanted to do something special for him for Christmas for ages. Something sexy. I’ve been back to intensive training at Torchwood, since I’m preparing to return to my position as Field Commander, so I think I’m looking a bit of all right… well better than before. I even bought some special sexy, Santa-themed Christmas lingerie to wear. Hey, Mrs. Claus, I bet you would look great in it! It’s all scarlet velvet, with faux fur trim. The bottom is a (very) mini-skirt, and the top is a (very) skimpy bra. I can hardly wait to put it on and surprise the Doctor!

But I’ll have to wait a bit longer. He’s getting the kids and Snowflake ready to spend the night at Mum and Dad’s, packing their overnight bags and loading all our presents into the TARDIS to take over there tonight, so we don’t have to worry about all that tomorrow morning. We’ll be lucky if we make it over in time for breakfast as it is, I imagine. Though Mum might have our heads if we miss that. The kids’ll be just itching to open their gifts, and she’ll be hard pressed to keep them at bay by the time breakfast is cleared away. She won’t want to be waiting on us.

As for tonight, I have supper keeping warm on the stove. Nothing complicated: just some soup (pumpkin chestnut, yum!) and some warm, fresh bread. It can stay there for just as long as it needs to...

I’ll be back to finish my letter to you later, Santa. I have to say goodnight to my little angels.

\--ooOoo--

Santa, I don’t know what I thought I was doing. I mean look at me. One look at this and the Doctor’s gonna run. It looked cute on the model in the picture, and it all kinda fits, but I’ve got the muffin-top spilling over the top of the skirt, and back fat under the bra. And my tummy’s all still a bit saggy and wrinkly from losing weight. That, and it’s bloody cold tonight. The snow is practically battering down the windows. And, I have to say, these hot little scraps of scarlet velvet are doing nothing to keep me warm, even with the faux fur trim. Maybe I should just call this off, after all. It was a dumb idea anyway. Dressing up in stupid Santa lingerie as a gift for my husband. Some gift, I am.

Decision made. The kit’s coming off. I’ll be better off in my dressing gown: not so much of me for him to see. Which is just as well.  

Oh, God, he’ll be back soon, though Mum knows to keep him busy for a bit. Still, I better get the fire going, and put on some romantic Christmas tunes. At least we can enjoy that.

\--ooOoo--

Santa, I changed my mind back again. When I saw myself in the mirror in my dressing gown, I realized I don’t look half as bad as I thought at first. My legs look great, and my hair is really pretty right now. I’ve grown out all of the blonde, and I’m back to my natural colour: turns out it’s a nice, soft brown. And I’ve styled it really nicely, with long curls. And I did a killer job on my make-up.

So I’m back dressed (or undressed!) in the Santa get-up. My boobs look amazing, practically spilling out of the bra (thank-you children for giving me these!); and I found out if I pull the skirt a little lower on my hips, the muffin-top isn’t nearly so bad. Not much I can do about my saggy tummy, but on the plus side, there’s less tummy overall than there was even a week ago.

But blimey, it’s cold. I just had a shiver run all the way down my spine. I’ll have to hurry and set myself up under the tree, by the fire. That’ll keep me a bit warmer, and hopefully when the Doctor gets home, we’ll be making some of our own heat soon enough!

I’ll drop back later and let you know how it goes! Not that you want all the details, but…

Bugger! I nearly forgot the Santa hat. There. Hair fixed. (Lookin’ good, Tyler!)

\--ooOoo--

Oh. My. God!

Santa, I just came up to grab us our jimjams so we can eat supper and snuggle in front of the telly and perhaps watch some rubbish Christmas programs, but I just have to tell you what happened! There I was, reclining under the tree, trying to look casual and sexy. It seemed like forever I was waiting for him to get home and I thought I was either going to combust with anticipation, or freeze solid with the cold.

So the Doctor finally comes back. Parks the TARDIS right in the living room, and bursts straight out the doors. I was feeling so shy about my get-up, I could barely look at him. Somehow I managed to squeak out something inane, in what I hoped was a suggestive tone, and the next thing I know, he’s practically prowling toward me. Never mind the cold; the look in his eyes is what really made me shiver! It’s only then I realize what he’s wearing: nothing but some scarlet velvet boxers and a Santa hat that matched my kit perfectly. The best bit was the front pouch of the boxers: it was all sequined in candy cane stripes and had a faux fur pompom right on the top of his very impressive hard-on. It was the fucking sexiest thing I’ve seen in a long time! And he did it all for me!

And guess what? He said the same thing about me and my get-up! 

Though, to be perfectly honest, the clothes didn’t actually stay on for very long...

Santa, I hope your Christmas is as merry and bright as my Christmas Eve has been. Please give my love to everyone! Gotta run. The Doctor’s waiting for me and, to be honest, I’ve worked up a bit of an appetite!

** Love, Rose **


	10. December 24th, 2025 (Prompt: Family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth, there’s nothing quite like the adventure of saving the world, until one Christmas, the adventure becomes far too dangerous and puts Rose’s life in jeopardy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning** for serious, life-threatening situations, violence, life-threatening injury, and violence resulting in death. 
> 
> My darling betas, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula! How can I possibly thank you enough? I appreciate all that you do. You are wonderful!
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Family_.

* * *

December 24th, 2025

Dear Father Christmas,

_ Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth _ . That’s me! (Somehow it always sounds grander when the Doctor says it, though.)

It’s been so brilliant this past year to get back out in the field and feel like I’m making a difference. There’s nothing quite like that feeling of saving the world. Yeah, the Doctor and I have our TARDIS, and we go travelling all around the universe on the weekends, visiting all sorts of places and times with Hope, Charlie, and Wilfred. But it isn’t quite like it used to be when it was just the Doctor and me, yeah, living by the seats of our pants, leaping from one adventure to the next.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s still an adventure! Especially getting to watch the brood learn about all of space and time. When the time comes, the TARDIS will be theirs to inherit, and they need to be armed with all the knowledge they can possibly cram into those bigger-on-the-inside brains of theirs. It’s just… I know it sounds mental, but I miss the danger; the adrenaline rush; that thrill that comes of well… saving the Universe and barely escaping with your own life.

It’s strange really, because, of the two of us, you’d think it would be the Doctor who was missing experiencing that high. But it turns out he’s really enjoying tinkering and experimenting at Torchwood for the time being, and he’s so involved with the kids’ educations. Sometimes he comes on missions with me (those are the best missions, running with his hand in mine!) and the kids stay with their Gran and Grandad, but he’s mostly content to do the school run and go to work at Torchwood, these days.

I think a big part of it is him wanting to make sure that at least one of us is safe at all times. I get that. This spring, a laser from a skittish, crash-landed Jumjumut grazed my left shoulder as I was diving for cover. It hit very close to my heart. We actually lost one of our operatives on that mission, before we had a chance to subdue the alien. Isabel Stokes was a good woman, single mum of two. Fortunately, her parents were able to step in and look after her babies, but it really struck home: my job can sometimes be very dangerous.

The Doctor held onto me really tight when I got home the next night. He made love to me like he was etching the memories in his mind. Maybe he was. He never asked me not to return to work though, but in the morning, he passed me my travel mug of coffee and told me he loved me. Then he told me to come home safe. What could I say to that? I just kissed him and whispered in his ear, “I’m never going to leave you.”

That’s become our morning ritual since that day.

On my birthday, this year, he gifted me with my very own sonic. A gorgeous sonic wristwatch, programmed with all the settings of his screwdriver. He said it would make him feel better knowing I had it at my disposal, because you never know… I guess if he couldn’t be there himself, a sonic he had crafted was the next best thing.

Life’s been busy. Most of the missions weren’t dangerous at all. They weren’t even proper missions at all. A lot of the time, I was just checking in with pensioners who thought they’d seen a UFO. We had to follow up, of course, because you never know. Usually, though, it was the things hidden in plain view we had to watch out for. Tracking those babies down sometime took days. There were times when I had to miss some of our excursions on the TARDIS, which broke my heart, but the Doctor managed on his own with the brood.

But I had never yet missed an important occasion: I had made it home for birthdays anniversaries, concerts, recitals, holidays, the whole bit. I even booked a month off to spend summer hols winging through space and time with the loves of my life.

But here I am, Christmas Eve, stuck on a stakeout in Cape Town waiting for some well-known alien arms smugglers, the Dintashi, to try to make a deal with a rebel group of Sontarans who have been hiding out on Earth for the last month. They’d thought Earth was a dead-end planet with limited knowledge of extraterrestrial life, and for the most part, they were right. They liked it for its extensive communications networks, though: easy to tap into. Also, easy for us to trace once we figured out what we were looking for. They’d underestimated Torchwood and we’ve been watching, waiting for this deal to go down.

Unfortunately, I drew the short straw for the week over the Christmas period. I’m scheduled to be here five more days, which means, if I’m very lucky, I’ll be home in time to ring in the New Year at the Annual Vitex New Year’s Gala.

I have to tell you Santa, stakeouts are mind-numbingly dull. We know something is going to happen _soon_. It’s just coordinating terrestrial and extraterrestrial calendars can be a bit dodgy sometimes so, a lot of the time we have to wait, and play it by ear.

Me and my partner, Arjun Sreeram have worked together on loads of cases. We train together, so we know each other pretty well. We’re camped out in a vacant flat across the street from the Sontarans’ building. He’s just gone out for a coffee run, and I’m sitting here by the window dictating this diary. I have to keep this thing private, though. I’d never hear the end of it if Arjun _ever_ found out I still write to Santa every year. Oh, I see him. He’s coming back. I gotta go!

\--ooOoo--

December 30, 2021

Hi Santa, I’m back. I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten or something. I just didn’t get a chance to finish my story until now. Hope you had a happy Christmas!

Where did I leave off? Right, I was waiting for Arjun to come back to our flat. It took him a bloody long time to come up the stairs, and by the time he got there, I was famished, hungry enough to down the lukewarm coffee and rather disgusting egg salad sandwich he brought me in a few gulps (better that way, anyway, so I could barely taste it.)

Right then, I got a ping on my mobile. It was the Doctor. Arjun said he’d be fine doing surveillance if I wanted to take the call. The best part was it wasn’t just a call! It was a videochat! From Yultidia, nonetheless! The kids and the Doctor were at the top of the snowtubing hill. They were just about to go down and had wanted me to join them very badly. They decided if I couldn’t be there in person, I could at least be there virtually. The Doctor shouted “Allons-y, Rose Tyler,” and we were off down the hill. It was wonderful to hear their shrill, little voices, screeching in delight, and see the big grins on all their faces as they went careening down the hill, but it was all I could do to hold back my tears. I wanted to be there with them more than anything!

“We’ll call back later,” the Doctor told me, “to say goodnight.” And then he said, “Rose Tyler−” And the line went dead.

I tried really hard not to dwell on the memories that that unfinished sentence dredged up, because I knew exactly what the call cutting out meant: something was about to go down.

Arjun argued with me. I told him to shut it and just keep an eye on things. Any people walking by, cars moving. Anything. Even a stray animal. He kept insisting he saw nothing amiss, no sign of a transmat anywhere in the vicinity. But I _knew_. I’d sonicked my mobile so it would drop everything at any sign of a transmat within a 50 kilometre radius. And that’s just what happened.

I don’t know why I did it (some instinct niggling in the back of my mind, I guess, that prickle of suspicion you just can’t ignore) but I surreptitiously peered out over Arjun’s shoulder just as two lean bodies slipped into the shadows around the side of the Sontarans’ building. It was the Dintashi, I was sure of it, even though they looked perfectly human. The Dintashi were well known for using Shimmers. Arjun _had_ to have noticed, and he hadn’t bothered to tell me. Something was very, very wrong.

I confronted him, and he got this really scary look on his face. Accused me of messing things up for him, saying that I should have just kept my nose out of it. He even pointed his gun at me. I didn’t really have time for his crap, to be honest. I needed to catch the two the Dintashi and the Sontarans across the street. But now, I realized, I had absolutely no back up.

We had two other operatives in the flat below, but there’d been no communication from them since Arjun had come back from the coffee run… And then it clicked. It had taken him an awful long time to come up the stairs... I had to assume he had subdued them, and now I didn’t know if they were alive, dead, or incapacitated, or maybe even  involved in this scam somehow. Whatever the case, they certainly weren’t going to be around to help me.

Arjun aimed the gun at my head. I was so frightened, Santa! I just kept the images of my laughing children and husband replaying in my mind as I moved toward him. If this turned out to be the last thing I would ever do, I wanted that to be my final thought. Them. Always them. Only them. Forever.

Sorry, Santa. Give me a mo’. I’m crying again. I promised I wouldn’t do that…

Anyway, so he’s pointing the gun at my head, and I knew I had to do something unexpected. Arjun knows the way I fight. But there was one thing he wouldn’t be expecting. I activated my sonic, and pointed it at him. It shone an incredibly strong light in his eyes, temporarily blinding him. While he was reeling from that, I knocked him out cold with a solid lead punch right to the side of his neck, just behind his ear, and once he was down, I kicked the gun from his hand.

Of course, I confiscated all his weapons, but I just left him there, unconscious, ‘cause frankly, I needed to focus on apprehending the Dintashi and Sontarans. I called Dad as I ran down the stairs. Told him to mobilize anything in the area. But he said it would be a while before anyone could get to me. They were all a few kilometres out. He also ordered me to wait before engaging. Well, I’ve never been one to follow orders and if I didn’t act, the weapons exchange would go down, unhindered, and then where would we be? Earth would be getting a reputation for being a place for holding these sorts of transactions. It was dangerous and needed to be nipped in the bud.

Still, as much as I wanted to go in there and take them all down, myself, I do have a bit of common sense. I’m pretty good at my job. I can be tough and have good combat skills. Dad wouldn’t have given me the position of Field Commander if I hadn’t been good. But that also means I know when I’m in over my head. This was one of those times. I might have been able to handle just the Dintashi, but the Sontarans were another matter.

But I wasn’t just going to let this go. And there was only one person I could call on who I knew could help me, and be here right away. My Doctor.

I quietly snuck into the room where the aliens were negotiating the details of their transaction (they weren’t that hard to find with my sonic), and sent the Doctor a signal from there so he could easily lock onto it. They heard it, of course, and turned to face me. One of the Sontarans shouted at the Dintashi something along the lines of “…you assured us we wouldn’t be interrupted…” He had his rifle pointed at the arms dealers who looked like they were making to transmat out of there. I shouted for them to stop. They couldn’t escape now! Then, before I could react, another of the Sontarans fired at me with his disruptor rifle.

Unprepared, I went down. All I remember is the disruptor blast cutting across my torso, dropping me, and everything started to go black. I could just make out the sound of the TARDIS, and in my mind, I clung to my vision of the laughing faces of my family, smiling at me.

The next couple of days were hazy. I kept trying to fight out of the darkness but it kept sucking me back under, and always before it did, I would see my  family grinning at me as they snowtubed in Yultidia. I didn’t know why, but I just knew I had to hold on to that image.

Then I remember seeing the Doctor. It was only for a second. The lights were so bright and he was all back lit with spiky hair and his face in dark shadow, but I could see his eyes. They were full of the aftermath of the Oncoming Storm: so unsettled and sad. I was falling under again, the darkness claiming me, and suddenly his hand grabbed mine and his thoughts washed through me. _I love you. Come home safe._

And I told him I’d never leave him.

I finally woke up properly yesterday in the medical facilities at Torchwood. I’d missed Christmas entirely, and ruined it for my family. They were all staying on cots in empty rooms nearby. They’d decorated my room with a tree and garland (even some of that garish stuff from Yultidia!) All the presents were tucked under the tree. No one had opened even one. I feel so guilty about that.

We’re going to open them tonight, though. I wasn’t up to it yesterday, but I’m feeling a bit better today. Turns out the disruptor broke several of my ribs and sliced open my abdomen. My intestines had to be stitched back together, but the doctors couldn’t do much for my uterus. They did a hysterectomy, saving as much as they could. We hadn’t been planning on having more babies, but now that the choice has been taken away from me, I feel a bit empty. I was told I had been very lucky that no other major organs were involved, though. So I’ll just have to keep focussing on that.

The Doctor had taken the Sontarans and the Dintashi to Torchwood for questioning and to be kept in detention there. The Dintashi, not unexpectedly, have a ship close by and a contingent is expected to arrive to negotiate for the release of the prisoners. Being a rogue faction, the Sontarans are on their own. Back in the Prime Universe, the Doctor would have handed them directly to the Shadow Proclamation, but he hasn’t done much research into that organization’s presence in _this_ universe, yet. Until he does, the Sontarans will remain prisoners of Torchwood. Arjun is in lock up. He’ll probably be retconned after a thorough interrogation.  The other operatives he (thankfully) only incapacitated are back home, recovering with their families.

As for being Defender of the Earth… I think I’ll be quite happy to lead a quieter life for a while, not that I’ll have much of a choice until I’m properly healed up, which could take some time. Anyway, the title doesn’t seem so grand anymore, even from the Doctor’s lips. For now, the greatest adventure I want to have is spending time with my family, and always holding onto each memory as though it’s going to be my last.

Until next year, Santa. I hope Mrs. Claus and your family of elves and reindeer have a safe, happy, and healthy year.

** love, Rose **


	11. December 24th, 2026 (Prompt: Mistletoe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose is tired of never feeling as though she’s good enough for Jackie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A boring little entry… mostly just Rose imparting the family news to Santa. The original inspiration for it (and indeed use of the prompt) doesn’t even happen until very close to the end.
> 
> Heaps of thanks to Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci. It just wouldn’t be the same without you two lovelies along for the ride. <3
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Mistletoe_.

* * *

December 24th, 2022

Dear Father Christmas,

Mum’s been having a go at me… again. There’s _always_ something. I never seem to get it right or be good enough for her. I must be such a disappointment compared to her “Golden Boy”, Tony. Honestly, I’m thirty-seven years old, and I just feel like such a cow, but I can hardly wait for him to spring his news on her and Dad at tea tonight. Not that I believe for a moment that Mum’ll be upset (she’ll be happy he told her; I think she’s been expecting something like this for a couple of years now), but if nothing else, it should take her attention off me for a bit.

That being said, she’s been surprisingly supportive of me and the Doctor’s plans for Hope’s future education. It’s a bit unconventional so I was expecting her to kick up more of a fuss. But she seems to be on board (for now), which is a relief, because if all goes well, it’s what we plan to do with Charlie and Wilfred too. Hope’s finishing Primary school this coming year. She’ll be eleven years old by that time, but she’s _not_ going to secondary school. Me and the Doctor sat and talked for a long time about the path we saw for our children in the future, and both of us agreed that, while their primary education provided them with many essential social skills we felt they needed to get along in life, when they finished Primary, if they were disciplined enough and mature enough, they should have a chance to pursue significantly higher levels of education.

We think Hope’s ready (more than), and her teachers agreed. We know our children aren’t the easiest to have in the classroom, so we’ve really appreciated the way all the teachers at our school have been willing to accommodate them, and consult us whenever they needed to. But they also recognize the limitations of a classical education for _our_ brood. So, this spring, Hope will sit her A-levels, and in the fall, move on to Uni. She would like to become a medical doctor.

She won’t be joining Tony in the fall, though. He’s off to Uni too, going for a general science degree while he sorts out where his interests really lie, but Hope’s going to be doing all of her courses online, so she can work at her own pace and not feel overwhelmed being surrounded by all those rowdy young adults on campus. I have a funny feeling if she’d been forced to take courses on campus, Mum would have had much more to say about it, and rightly so.

No, it seems Mum’s happy to see everyone getting ahead in the world but me. Back when I was working on the Dimension Cannon, she finally stopped harping on at me about “airs and graces” ‘cause it was clear everything I was doing was so I could get back to the Doctor. I honestly think that’s the most supportive she’s ever been of me. I was so driven, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop me, so she was just being my mum: making sure I slept and ate, and she’d always be ready with a hug if I needed it. She never, ever told me to give up, even when it seemed hopeless. I sure didn’t appreciate it much at the time, but looking back, it meant the world to me. I wish she’d be a bit more like that now.

I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it about my “injury”, last Christmas. She’s always going on about how peaky I look, or how much I’ve aged (gee thanks, Mum), and yeah, it’s taken a while for me to get back to feeling myself, but I’ve been eating well and keeping fit, and I think I’m just about there.

Blimey, the red tops had a field day with that whole incident. Somehow some piecemeal bits of information leaked and word got out that the Vitex heiress (that would be me!) had been killed by a mugger who attacked me with a knife. I haven’t been such big news since our wedding. Oh, and the kids being born. But that was all very well controlled, and we had scheduled press days, so it all died off pretty quickly after that. Anyway, it took a while for _this_ story to fade away, and they milked it for every drop of shock factor they could. But they eventually lost interest a while ago, after it turned out I was actually alive. Although, occasionally a story will still appear that a body swap took place, or that alien necromancy was involved and I’m really a zombie. But mostly they’ve given up.

Mum hasn’t though: she’s like a terrier with a bone!

My brush with death (and it really was touch and go there for a while) made me rethink the choices I’ve made in life. And Mum always has her two cents to add. I thought I had returned to the field work because of the thrill, but really, the job wasn’t usually all that exciting. It was just something I was good at and had lots of experience with, especially after all my trips through the void, searching for the Doctor. Living with my family of geniuses, sometimes it’s really hard not to feel left out and downright inadequate, so you cling to those things that are familiar, that give you some kind of comfort, yeah.  

Mum laid the I-told-you-sos on real thick during my recovery, as if I couldn’t see for myself I’d had enough of that job. She was thrilled when I told Dad I was resigning, but it didn’t take her long to remind me that I needed to find some work to do. I was half-expecting her to tell me to try to get a job at the butcher’s again. She should talk! As if she does anything!

Well, that’s not entirely fair. Not fair at all, to be honest.She does tons of charity work! Tons! She’s actually created her own charitable organization: The Big Yellow Truck. _Providing women with the power to change their world._ That’s their slogan. They are responsible for founding a series of women’s support centres and shelters throughout the UK. Mum’s founder and chair, but she also gets right in there and helps out. She always says she could have used this kind of assistance when she lost my dad, and feels like she should be giving back now she has the means to do it. I think she wanted me to join her, and help her run it. And it would have been a great job, but me working _for_ my mum… nope! Nope with a capital N.

But, I _do_ like working with people, helping them out. And I _do_ hold the title of _Ambassador of Extraterrestrial Affairs_ , and I really enjoy the odd time I get to work as a liaison between my planet and the rest of the universe. I’m good at it. I know a thing or two about aliens, and with the Doctor by my side, I have my own personal fountain of knowledge I can draw on.

I had an idea I could build on that job a little, and take on some related responsibilities. There are more and more of the public coming in contact with aliens every day. The Earth is becoming a planet of interest out there in the universe, and more aliens are dropping by to check us out. But for an unsuspecting, uneducated public, these encounters can be frightening and sometimes traumatic. And things can get out of control quickly. People need to know there’s someone they can turn to who understands and actually believes what they’re going through. And the aliens need to know they have someone they can connect with to help them get by on planet Earth without causing mass panic.

So I suggested to Dad that it would be a good idea to start a new department of Torchwood: _Encounter Counselling and Extraterrestrial Integration._ He was right on board. He even said I should head it up, get it underway, so that’s what I’ve been doing. And it’s really exciting, but I just feel so woefully underqualified, so I’m going back to school to certify as a counsellor in the New Year. There are several different levels, different qualifications I can earn, and I’m determined I’ll work through them one by one.

The Doctor and Dad (and Tony and the kids) were all really excited for me, but not Mum. She didn’t understand why I wanted to take even more on when I was already so busy getting the new department up and running, and I was already doing a good enough job with the qualifications I had. “Sweetheart,” she said to me yesterday, “why are you always trying to show up everyone else, make yourself into something you’re not? Why can’t you just be happy with what you’ve got?”

Santa, I’ll be honest. That stung. I mean, that really, really hurt. A lot. I couldn’t get it off my mind all night. I finally talked to the Doctor about it and he gave me something to think about. He told me she reminded him of Donna a bit, shouting at the world because she doesn’t think anyone’s listening. He said, “Love, she hates that she’s never had a chance to do all the things you’ve done. She’s a bit jealous.”

I feel so stupid. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, yeah. When I think about how I am with Tony, so jealous of him being Mum’s “little angel” compared to me. I’ve been secretly hoping he’ll go and do something bad, like coming home drunk one night, or failing an exam, just so it’ll bring him down a notch, knock him off that pedestal a bit. And I’m so, so sorry, Santa. It’s childish and mean. But tonight, I’ll hold his hand and just be there for him as much as he needs me, because I’m his big sister.

And… I’ve just figured out exactly what I’m going to give Mum for Christmas.

Safe travels tonight, Santa. Love to all! I’ll check back in with you Christmas day and let you know how it all goes!

**love, Rose**

\--ooOoo--

Happy Christmas, Santa! I hope your Christmas is as amazing as mine has been!

So, let me get started here. Last night Tony invited a friend to join us for Christmas Eve tea, which used to happen quite often when he was small, but it hasn’t happened for a few years, so it’s kind of a big deal.

I was pretty sure what was about to go down because he’s confided in me a lot over the years, so when the doorbell rang, he automatically looked over to me for support. I got up with him to go answer the door. The big lump grabbed my hand (I mean he’s seventeen years old now, six foot two; he towers over me), and I just let him hold on to me like he did when he was tiny. He knows I figured it out all on my own years ago, and I told him I knew it wouldn’t be a big deal with Mum and Dad.

Sure enough, his friend came in and we all three go through to the dining room where everyone’s sat around the table. There’s silence for a few beats. Then Tony drops my hand and takes his friend’s hand instead. “Hey everyone,” (he’s stammering) “I’d like you all to meet Noah Milne, my boyfriend.”

You could hear a pin drop, and then suddenly my mum’s telling Noah to come on in and make himself at home. “We don’t bite, sweetheart.” And Dad and the Doctor are up out of their chairs, shaking his hand and welcoming him to the family. We had such a great time (Noah fits so well with the rest of the family), and the best part was, at the very end of the night, as Noah was about to head home, Mum and I spied Tony and him snogging under the mistletoe. “Ah, now ain’t that lovely?” Mum said, and I couldn’t agree more. I was so proud of my little brother, my Toto; he’s a Tyler, through and through. Each of us are courageous, strong, and smart in our own unique ways.  

As for Mum’s Christmas gift… she was a little more hesitant about that, and that’s okay, but I hope she’ll come around. I’m pretty sure she will, though. I asked her to join me at school in the New Year, so we can both earn our counselling certifications. She’ll be able to make great use of it at The Big Yellow Truck and really get involved with counselling the women, which I know is what she’d love to do. And she’s a natural. Better yet, this is a journey we can take together, improving ourselves so we both have more opportunities to make a difference in this world.


	12. December 24, 2027 (Prompt: Feast)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charlie makes a new friend, it opens her eyes up to the world around her, and her life is changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one, and along with a bloody awful cold, set me back from my schedule by a few days. I’m trying to make it up and get ahead again, but I fear the time is nigh when I will not be able to post on schedule.
> 
> Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci deserve all the hugs. Thanks so much for all your support, ladies.
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Feast_.

* * *

December 24th, 2027

Dear Father Christmas,

I am always proud of my children. I’m their mum. It’s only natural. But this year my pride for Charlie is absolutely overflowing, above and beyond the pride that normally comes from being a parent. It has nothing to do with her intelligence, but everything to do with her compassion and her determination. This year, I am just so proud to know this wonderful little person, a glowing example of the best that humanity has to offer.

This year marked the twentieth anniversary of the formation of the People’s Republic and the dismantling of the Army Blockades and curfews imposed on the poorest parts of London and other major centres around Britain. I have to say, despite the Doctor’s misgivings, from what I could see, Harriet Jones was truly the people’s president. In her three consecutive terms in office, she made huge strides to create jobs and educational opportunities for so many people who had been controlled and subjugated for years, all the while driving the economy to new highs, and making a huge impact in combating the damage to the environment caused by cross-dimensional travel.

It was the Golden Age of Britain.

But it wasn’t perfect. Many people had still slipped through the cracks, and without Harriet Jones’ leadership in the years following her retirement, conditions worsened again, and people without proper means of support found themselves forced to live in the sector of the city that had once been behind the barricades. It was the only place they could hope to find a home they could afford. Many couldn’t afford even that, and subsisted however and wherever they could.

Enough of the history lesson, though. The point is there are many thousands of people in the London area who are living in poverty, and it is far too easy to turn a blind eye to things you don’t want to believe.

Fortunately, my little Charlie, nine years old, refuses to turn a blind eye. I think I’ve mentioned before that she’s my little activist. She’s the shit-disturber. If she has latched onto the idea that she wants something to get done, don’t stand in her road, because she’s coming through. This Christmas season, with the very enthusiastic aid of her brother and sister, she disturbed a whole lot of shit, and made a difference in the lives of an awful lot of people.

This story starts about three months back. Charlie wasn’t feeling very well, and we kept her back from school. But the Doctor decided to take her in to work with him for a quiet day of tinkering on some new gadgets from Torchwood’s as yet unsorted collection of alien artifacts. I was going to concentrate on my course work from home.

It was a warm autumn day, and Charlie claimed she was feeling (miraculously!) quite a bit better, so the Doctor took her to have lunch on the benches along the pavement by the river. I had sent her packed lunch for school with her. She was not _at all_ happy. Apparently, she hated chicken salad sandwiches (news to me: they were her favourites the week prior.) She flew into a tantrum and made to throw her sandwich away. Clearly she still wasn’t feeling quite like herself, because as fierce as she is, she would normally never lose control of her temper like that.

The Doctor told me he’d been shouting at her to stop (not his most brilliant parenting moment, he admitted), and she was determinedly poised to throw the sandwich in the rubbish bin, when a small, stammering voice spoke up from behind the next bench: “Please… may I have it? That is, if you really don’t want it.”

Charlie had gone silent and just stared at the ragged little soul who belonged to the voice: a boy, dressed in filthy, tattered clothes, around Hope’s age, according to the Doctor. Wide-eyed, she’d passed him the sandwich, and introduced herself and her dad, and invited the lad to sit with them. Over the course of the following forty-five minutes, Hope had dragged his name out of him ( _Therin Thomson_ ), given him her water (which he gulped down), and her apple (which he tucked into one of his grimy pockets for later.)

The Doctor had jogged away down the boardwalk to get the children 99s, and by the time he returned, Charlie was letting Therin have a go at flying one of her little drones. She’s always creating brilliant little gadgets from bits and bobs, and her favourites are the remote control drones. There’s always one tucked in her pocket, ready to play with. They were laughing their hearts out and chatting away like they’d been friends forever, as the drone swooped out over the Thames.

The Doctor had returned to work, and left them to play, but Charlie had come up to the lab about an hour later saying Therin had had to go, but she’d given him the drone. On the way home she peppered the Doctor with questions and comments: Do you think I’ll ever see him again? I wish we could have bought him supper. Where do you think he lives? Why is he so hungry and dressed in those awful clothes?

The following day, sometime after lunch, I got a call from her school to tell us she hadn’t been present when the teacher had called the register, and couldn’t be located on school grounds. They even admitted that she may not have been in class for some time. The students had been doing group work away from their desks so her presence and/or absence had been overlooked in the chaotic classroom.

Now, when I was young, I was notorious for skiving off, especially in secondary school (there’s a long story about me, my mate Shareen, and a school trip to France... But that’s another story for another time.) Now, secondary school is one thing, but it’s _really_ difficult to get away with skiving off in Primary, as the teachers at that level are vigilant about the safety of the children. Needless to say, I was harbouring a rather grudging admiration for Charlie in that moment, even as I was fighting down the sheer panic. She wasn’t even nine years old yet, and here she was lost in the world, but it appeared she had done it with style!

The Doctor had called me before I’d even had a chance to dial his number. He’d sensed my emotional state, even though we were separated by quite a distance. I must have been broadcasting rather intensely through our bond. He said he would be home straight away. Meanwhile, Hope (who had been working on her Uni coursework in her room) checked the TARDIS and I started a search around the neighborhood on foot.

It was only five minutes later when the Doctor called me back. He’d found her. He’d been pacing in front of the lift doors, impatiently waiting for them to reach his floor when he’d glanced out the window. It overlooked the spot where he, Charlie, and Therin had had lunch the previous day. He’d looked down at the benches, and sure enough, there she was, sitting with her friend, playing with another couple of her drones.

Santa, I can’t begin to describe the relief I felt. Honestly, as much as I wanted to wring her neck, I really just wanted to see her face and hold her close to my heart. The Doctor had bypassed the hugging, and gone straight to the neck-wringing (well not actual neck-wringing, but you get the picture. He was furious!) Of course Charlie had stood up to him, tough little customer that she is, and Therin had run off, no doubt terrified of being caught in the middle of not one but two Oncoming Storms. The Doctor had eventually managed to stuff Charlie in the back of the car and haul her home.

When she got here, she wasn’t in any mood for being held “close to my heart”, but she did flop down on the sofa at my insistence. I perched on the coffee table in front of her, while the Doctor paced angrily, back and forth, in front of the fireplace. I began by asking her if she wanted to tell us what had happened.

But does she answer? Nope! Not her. Instead, she narrows her eyes, and shoots daggers at her pacing father, and says, “Does he really have to do that?”

I’m opening my mouth to explain that it helped him to think, when I’m cut off by what I can best describe as an explosion of anger from the Doctor. It flared across our bond, and I all I could do was watch as he lunged at Charlie, eyes blazing, and a lot of accusations about thoughtlessness, stupidity, and a few others flying from his mouth. I’ve rarely ever seen him so angry and frightened.

Charlie looked really shocked and a bit scared for just for a second, but then her face hardened again. She had the nerve to just stare him down and wait for his tirade to finish. Then she says: “Well, I guess we’re done here,” and gets up and walks toward the stairs.

Well, the Doctor flew completely off the trolley, and I did all I could over our bond to soothe him, but I was keeping one eye firmly on Charlie. I could feel my grudging admiration for her surfacing again, but I couldn’t let her leave on her own terms like that. I knew from personal experience the rift _that_ can cause. When I left school (and home) to live with Jimmy Stone, my mum had been livid, and the row we had was monumental, but in the end she had just thrown her arms in the air and let me leave. At the time, I felt like I’d won the battle, but it was months before we even saw each other again, and then only because I realized I had actually won nothing and lost so much. Fortunately I was able to swallow my pride and admit I’d been wrong, that I needed her. But it could have gone so differently. I was sixteen at the time, and was able to rationalize and make a mature decision. Charlie is still so young. She needs _us_ to make sure her boundaries are firmly set until she’s old enough to set her own... responsibly. And right now she couldn’t let her walk away.

Over our bond, I shouted at the Doctor to stop. He was absolutely seething, but he backed off. I called Charlie back, and she ignored me. “Now!” (Loud, firm, but not shouting. I had this.) “You have until I get to three.” And then I started counting. (I don’t know why counting works, but in ninety-nine percent of cases it does… mysterious but effective.) It worked this time, although Charlie waited a few seconds after I got to three before she sat herself back on the sofa. (Fine, I’d let her take that little bit of control if it made her feel better.)

She still refused to speak to us about her panic-inducing excursion, and I eventually told her she was grounded until further notice. She would stay in her room. She could read or study, but she was not to tinker or play or watch telly. The Doctor agreed to keep an eye on the websites she visited when she was studying online. She would eat with the family, and go to school where she would be watched like a hawk. Lunches and breaks would be spent at the school office. And above all, I let her know me and her dad were always there to talk to when she was ready.

It took a few days, and we didn’t push her, just kept reminding her we were there to listen, but she eventually opened up. Me and the Doctor were watching telly, and suddenly there was Charlie, scrambling over the back of the sofa to plop down between us. We all just snuggled for a few minutes, the two of us pressing kisses to the top of her head.

“Sorry I scared you…”

The Doctor apologized too for reacting the way he did and for saying the things he had.

“I know, Daddy. You told me two days ago!”

“Weeeell, it bears repeating.” He was tugging on his ear and I received his mental eye roll over our bond.

We share another special parental telepathic bond with our children, that we only ever open when both parties consent. It is activated through touch, and by mutual agreement, the Doctor and I each took one of Charlie’s hands, offering to share our thoughts with her. She bit her lip and nodded, squeezing each of our hands in return. We spent an hour or so sharing our love for one another, and Charlie finally told us what had happened.

She had been really worried about her new friend, Therin. He was homeless. His father had abandoned him and his mum when he was still a baby. He had grown up on the Powell Estate, of all places, but in this universe, it was little more than a high-rise slum. It jarred me to hear that. The Prime Universe’s version of the Estates hadn’t exactly been luxury accommodations, far from it, but they had kept us warm and dry, and there was a sense of community among the tenants. We struggled to make ends meet sometimes, but we got by. I knew Peckham, in this version of London, was one of the poorest parts of town, a part that had previously been deep behind the blockades, but I hadn’t realized conditions there had been so dire.

Therin’s mum had died a few years back. The flu, he thought. She had never received any medical attention. Since that time, Therin had been on his own. He begged for food. Being young, he mostly did pretty well for himself. People were more apt to be kind to a cute kid. He’d never gone to school that Charlie knew of. But his mum had taught him to read and write and do some basic math. And she’d taught him to play the guitar. Music was his passion, but his guitar had been stolen last year by some thugs, and he hasn't played since.

The three of us sat there on the sofa sobbing. “I just wanted to be his friend, and give him some food so he didn’t have to beg,” Charlie explained. “So I borrowed your Oyster card, Mum, and took the bus into town, and then the tube to the Torchwood stop.”

Both me and the Doctor heaved a sigh, a quiet plea that we find the patience to deal with our middle child. It was difficult to keep our cool and not reprimand her again for her rash actions. But given the circumstances, we knew we would have done the same thing in her shoes. She was _our_ daughter; there was no doubt about it.

Our curiosity was piqued, though, and we spent the rest of the day researching the history of the areas that had been segregated behind the army blockades. Hope joined us, and Wilfred when he came in from football practice. Apparently while Harriet Jones had been in office, the previously blockaded districts had been listed for redevelopment and refurbishment, to be conducted one area at a time. New housing was planned and built, new communities created complete with businesses and schools. Training programs were set up to prepare residents to live independently in the state-provided homes. There were medical and dental clinics, shops and restaurants, salons and garages, banks and police stations. Big businesses were given incentives to move into the area to provide employment. Vitex, Pete’s company, it turned out was one of those businesses, having built a warehouse in one community, and a production plant in another. It was a monumental undertaking, unlike anything ever seen before.

But when Harriet Jones retired, most of the outstanding redevelopments had been put on hold or cancelled outright. The communities that had been converted were thriving as well as any other London community. But the ones that had been shifted to the back-burner, including Peckham, had only worsened over time. Now, they were, simply put, slums: third-world living conditions right smack in the heart of London.

“But why would they stop?” Wilfred asked about the government pulling funding from the project.

The Doctor explained how it all came down to money in the end, and the lack of will to make sure everything happened properly. Harriet Jones had been someone who was very good at making things happen; she was good at motivating people and making sure people stayed on task. She was also very clever about ensuring that, in the end, all of the redevelopment was profitable. She ensured no one took advantage and was an enthusiastic fundraiser. And she made sure she knew everyone and everyone knew who she was; that helped keep everyone accountable.

I explained that the worst part of it was that the government must be fully aware of the conditions in the un-redeveloped areas and were not only turning a blind eye, but also sweeping it under the rug.

We decided a visit to Peckham was warranted. We would take the TARDIS.

When we stepped out onto the courtyard at the Powell Estate, I nearly broke down in tears. The Doctor held me in his arms for a full five minutes before I could bear to look around again. It looked like a war zone. Not only were most of the flats completely exposed to the elements with missing doors and windows, but the buildings themselves looked structurally unsound. There were no safe dwellings. Any residents living there should be considered homeless, as far as I could tell.

We began to attract some attention. Hungry, poverty-stricken souls, peering out from behind crumbling walls; the more aggressive gangs challenged us, but one look from the Oncoming Storm sent them scattering. We had come prepared with loads of food, and spent much of the afternoon handing it out to the ragtag families and individuals who approached us once the gangs had backed down.

My heart leaped into my throat at one point when I saw Charlie speaking to one of the gang members, a heap of sandwiches in her arms. “You know,” she pointed out to the one who was clearly the leader (he was certainly the most dangerous looking), “if you would help people instead of threatening them, everyone would be happier, even you.” She glared up at him, challenging him. If her arms hadn’t been full of sandwiches she probably would have poked him in the chest, even though he towered over her. I could see him softening around the edges, just a little at the sight of the feisty little girl in front of him.

“So are you going to give me those sandwiches, or not?” he growled at her.

She stood up to him. My God, Santa! She was so impressive. She told him he and his friends would have to earn those sandwiches. She told him she figured he knew where everyone lived, and enlisted him to make sure all of the elderly residents had something to eat. She handed him all the sandwiches, telling him there were more and that he could have one when his job was done. She handed a bundle of them to each of the other gang members, shooing them off to do their jobs.

“If you help people,” she called after them, “and treat others with respect, you can get things done, because everyone is working toward a common goal.”

I couldn’t hold back a chuckle at my little force of nature, but I admit I spent the bulk of the day trying to hold back the tears.

Charlie came to my side and took my hand. “Don’t worry, Mummy. I’ll fix this. I’ll make it all better. Promise.”

\--ooOoo--

Today, three months later, she is well on her way to making good on that promise.

We took her out of school, permanently, nearly two years earlier than planned. There are many other ways to get an education and to learn about the world, than from behind the walls of a classroom. We took Wilfred out too, it was only fair. And Charlie took full advantage of every moment she was given to work on her project, and her brother and sister were right there to help her out in any way they could.  

She spoke to many people, starting with her Grandad, who had a great deal of pull with a lot of people in important positions, and a ton of knowledge about managing a big organization. She spoke to her Gran about her charity, the Big Yellow Truck. She spoke to Harriet Jones, who had retired to her home in her original constituency, Flydale North, and while she knew her redevelopment scheme had been essentially scuppered, she had been unaware that the people living in the underprivileged areas had been reduced to such a deplorable state. She hopped back on board in an instant, coming out of retirement to work with Charlie (and not asking for a cent in return) and speaking with her at length about the whos, whys, and wherefors of what would be involved in kick-starting her endeavour. With Harriet’s help, Charlie developed a long-term plan and spoke with many government officials, working hard to get their support. It was tough on that little girl, and there were more setbacks than there were payoffs, but I have to give her credit where credit is due, she never talked about throwing in the towel, not once.

The first step of her plan was to start her own charitable organization, but by law, she was far too young for such a venture. So me and the Doctor stepped up and became co-founders and chairs of _Hand in Hand_ , although our titles were in name only. We knew who was really in charge: Charlotte Tyler-Noble.

She planned to start small, organizing events to bring knowledge of the plight of the homeless people of London to the rest of the world. Her first event was a Festive Feast on Christmas day. Her vision was to bring together the people and businesses of London to provide food and fun for all the underprivileged souls in the slums of Peckham and the other areas awaiting redevelopment. She needed to hire event managers, accountants, and lot of other people, but Harriet Jones was more than happy to help out with that.

Charlie also enlisted her Grandad to speak on her behalf to big business owners to donate what they could to the event. Vitex was, of course, the leading sponsor of the event. Large grocery chains offered to supply literally tons of food in exchange for advertising. She and her siblings pounded the pavement, knocking on doors and talking with restaurant owners, convincing them to donate their time and resources to prepare a Christmas dinner, the scale of which had never before been seen. A kitchen supply company donated huge industrial ovens to be set up in a disused warehouse we had sourced as the location for the event.

And she got a lot of press. The granddaughter of the Vitex President taking on a project of this scale was big news, very big news, and she used it to her advantage, getting her message out to world. Unfortunately, it also meant the paparazzi were out in their droves. I don’t think we’d ever been subjected to such intense scrutiny before. It was a huge challenge just trying to go about our daily business. We were fortunate our little blue house was quite remote, but I admit, we used the TARDIS to get around rather a lot, and she was very clever at disguising herself, having a perfectly functioning Chameleon Circuit.

The press had a field day when several big name recording artists offered to attend the event. There was no venue where they could put on a concert, but they offered to busk, singing popular songs and Christmas music throughout the day.

Everything has come together beautifully and Charlie’s been over the moon for the last few days, so excited she’s been unable to sleep or eat. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

Oh my god, Santa, I don’t think I told you what happened with Therin Thomson. I just got so carried away telling you about Hand in Hand and Charlie’s Festive Feast, I completely forgot. Not that he’s forgettable. He’s been there with Charlie every step of the way. Therin showed up to see us that day we first went to visit Peckham, and (with the gang members) helped get sandwiches to all the people who were unable come to us. But when we were making to leave at the end of the afternoon, and I saw him hugging Charlie, I couldn’t just leave him behind in that destitute place.

“You can’t save them all, Rose,” the Doctor warned me.

“No, but I can save this one,” I told him. “We can work on the others later.”

So Therin came home with us for a few nights, but our house is small, and we are always taking off and travelling in the TARDIS on educational expeditions, and as much as we loved the young man, we didn’t feel we were able to give him the stability he needed at this point in his life.

Enter Jackie and Pete Tyler, empty-nesters with a whole lot of love to offer. Mum took him under her wing, and she and Dad happily became his legal guardians.

Mum allowed him to remain out of school until after the winter break so he could help Charlie with Hand in Hand. Earlier today, he was listening to Charlie’s rehearsal of her big speech. She is opening the event tomorrow in front of hundreds of reporters and cameras.

I was walking by her room just as she was practising, and I admit, I did a little eavesdropping. When I came by she was talking about how she learned from her mum and dad “…that the thing you need most to get across the universe is a hand to hold. And I challenge everyone to extend their hands to help bring hope to those in need. If everyone lends a hand, and works together, we can change the world…”

The Doctor slipped up behind me, kissing me behind the ear and accused me of spying on our daughter. I just told him how proud I was of her, of everything she’d accomplished; how strong and compassionate and determined she was, never letting anything stand in her way.

The Doctor just laughed. “Remind you of anyone, love?” he asked. “You realize, of course, she gets all of that from you.”

Santa, I have never received a lovelier compliment in my life.

A very happy Christmas to you and Mrs. Claus, and the elves and reindeer, too. I hope you have a hand to hold to help you get safely around the world tonight.

**love, Rose**


	13. December 24th, 2028 (Prompt: Ginger)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose Tyler thought she’d seen everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you may darling betas, Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci! You rescued me from a complete panic attack yesterday, and got me back on track. I cannot find enough ways to say how much I appreciate how you just stepped up to the plate for me, no hesitation! <3<3
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Ginger_.

* * *

December 28th, 2024

Dear Father Christmas,

I thought I’d seen everything. And, yeah, I know that’s technically not possible, but being married to the Doctor, and having all of space and time at my disposal, I sure have seen a lot of things: mad things; menacing things; sweet things; ravenous things; cringey things; ridiculous things; bloody evil things; and things I couldn’t dream up in my wildest fantasies. And a lot of those things seem to directly involve the Doctor! A trouble magnet, he is! Most often the trouble finds him. But sometimes… well, let’s just say, sometimes he practically invites trouble along for the ride.

What happened yesterday was one of those times. And now I can say with great confidence, I’ve seen it all. My life is complete.

So, we’re staying in our little blue house this year for Christmas, and yesterday, I was out with Mum, picking up a few last minute pressies and all the food for Christmas dinner (me and the Doctor are hosting). So after a nice lunch, I dropped Mum off at hers and came home. The kids were all out helping with the last minute preparations for the Second Annual Hand in Hand Festive Feast, so I knew me and the Doctor would have a few hours all to ourselves. We needed to wrap some gifts, but there’d be plenty of time for some impromptu recreational _un_ wrapping activities… if you catch my drift.

I left the groceries in the car, and crept into the house, keeping my side of our bond shielded so I could surprise him. I couldn’t find him on the lower floor, so I tiptoed up the stairs. I heard a string of _NOs_ coming from the ensuite and some rather strong expletives. I’d found him, all right.

I walked into the bedroom. I’d given up being stealthy. It didn’t sound as though the Doctor would appreciate a surprise at that moment, and when I probed our bond, his side was shielded tight. Thinking he might appreciate a hug, I approached the ensuite. The door was open a crack, but I couldn’t see beyond it. Suddenly there’s this unearthly yowl (not as unusual an occurrence as I would like, around here) and the door smashed open wide. Snowflake came flying out, screeching like a banshee (a real banshee, not the mythological creature), and rushed past me, blood all over her white coat, and leaving bloody footprints all over the floor.

Of course, I was completely shocked, and starting to freak out, if I’m being completely honest. That was a lot of blood, and I didn’t know if it was the Doctor’s or the cat’s or a bit of both. I rushed into the bathroom and stopped short just inside the door. It looked like a scene from a horror film, blood everywhere: the tub, the floor, the sink, the Doctor…

Actually, mostly the Doctor’s head…

Actually, the closer I looked, the more I began to realize it wasn’t blood at all...

The Doctor wheeled around, eyes wild and panicked. Anxiety was leaking from around the edges of his closed-off bond. He squeaked out my name in a very manly way (ahem… sarcasm fully intended).

“Please tell me you didn’t…” It was all I could say, really.

“Mum’ll have to be the word, then,” he bleated.

I closed down my side of the bond again, and made a show of narrowing my eyes at him and looking very, very angry, but inside I was in fits of barely controlled laughter. (This is a skill I‘ve had to develop over the years dealing with three adventurous, smarter-than-is-good-for-them, part-Time Lord children… and yes, also for dealing with their equally far-too-smart part-Time Lord father.) “You bought something from that two-bit swindler in the Prahmu-dit Bazaar, didn’t you? After I told you not to.” I inquired with a very deliberate arch of my brow. “I told you to see my mum about it.”

He just stammered and squeaked some more (so, yeah: guilty as charged), and muttered some drivel about never, ever letting _that woman_ anywhere near his hair.

Now it was time to get all shouty, when my victim was good and vulnerable: “Bloody hell, Doctor! What the fuck were you thinking? Your beautiful, touchable hair! Ruined!”

“I just wanted to be ginger.” He pouted at me, with those sad eyes and petted lower lip. God, he was laying it on thick! As if such tactics would sway me… well, maybe… eventually. That lip _was_ looking very tempting…  

“ _That_ is way beyond ginger!” I shouted some more. “That’s neon scarlet! What were you bloody thinking?”

“Gritug suggested I−”

I got really shouty at that point. A lot of nasty words to describe the disreputable merchant, and a lot more to describe the idiocy of the man standing in front of me with flaming red hair. Not to mention all the other things in the bathroom that were also (inadvertently) flaming red, including bits of the cat (who had decided it was safe to come back into the room in spite of my shouting.)

“Don’t move!” I told the Doctor. “Strip out of those clothes.”

I wiped Snowflake’s little red feet and shooed her out, then turned on the Doctor, who was obediently standing naked in front of me. I was trying really hard to ignore the fact that he was clearly very turned on by me being commanding. He always likes it when I get all authoritative, but now was not the time for _that_ sort of distraction. I told him to get the hell into the shower. I would only know what I was dealing with once all the excess dye was washed off, but based on how intense the colour looked on what should have been dark brown hair, I wasn’t holding out much hope.

\--ooOoo--

There was nothing for it. The Doctor was going to have to go see my mum. She would know what to do, but from what I could tell, the great plonker had managed to completely fry his hair. His face went completely grey when I gave him the news. I didn’t blame him. My mum would milk this incident for all it was worth. This would give her years of ribbings and snide remarks to work with, and she would be sure to spread the news far and wide, with the tale growing taller with each retelling. It took ages and a lot more shouting, but I eventually managed to get him into the car with a hoodie pulled up over his head.

As it was, it took a full half hour and two cups of tea before we managed to get Mum’s laughter under control.

“Most blokes go and buy a sports car or get a mistress or cover their greys a bit, but you, you bleedin’ clunker, you… you...” Mum’d flopped onto the sofa in convulsions again. “You look like a bleedin’ clown, you do!”

The Doctor denied up and down about having a mid-life crisis, but I could see him deflate, all the fight knocked out of him, and I stroked soothing circles onto his back. Then I got him a nice cuppa, and sat him down in a comfy armchair. I realized his body would be turning fifty next year (according to all his official documentation), and his sense of mortality must have been eating away at him.

Whether she was feeling sorry for him too, or she just figured she couldn’t get a rise out of him any more in his morose state, Mum let the Doctor finish his tea in peace, and then held out her hand to him and said, “C’mon, ya plum, let’s see what we can do about it, then.”

As she dragged him off to her hairdressing room (yes, she had a room in the mansion converted into her personal mini-salon; just a bit of nostalgia from our days on the Estate that she refused to give up) he looked back at me with those big sad eyes, and pleaded to me over our bond not to leave him, but I reassured him I’d be back. Truth be told, I still had presents to wrap, the ensuite to clean up, and scarlet cat prints to try to lift from the floors.

\--ooOoo--

Throughout the couple of hours I was gone, I could feel him beaming across our bond. There had been a moment of intense disappointment early on, but that had quickly been replaced with a sense of fun and laughter that stayed with him the whole time.

When I saw him, I broke into gales of (friendly) laughter. He announced he had decided to get into the Christmas spirit. Mum had suggested he might as well go for it, and that she could make it happen. His hair was styled in the riotous spikey perfection it usually was. The only difference was the colour: it remained vibrant red, but artfully blended into it were festive swaths of dazzling green.

It was bloody hot! And I told him so over our bond ( _not_ out loud in front of Mum) and touched the erogenous zones of his mind, reminding him we still had several hours before the kids would need to be picked up. Honestly, I couldn’t get him home and undressed fast enough, and he was right on board with that idea.

As we rushed to the car, Mum reminded him that the hair would all need to come off very soon. He had damaged it too much for it to be saved, but we decided we would just take an extended trip to Yultidia where his hair wouldn’t be considered out of place, and let it grow out a bit, so it didn’t need to be cut too short when the time came.

As we made love that afternoon, and I was running my fingers through that lovely, festive hair, that’s when I realized, of all the mental things I had seen in the multiverse, what I saw earlier that day was the icing on the cake, the coup de grace, the one thing that assured me that I had actually seen all the mental things I ever needed to see. And it turns out, it wasn’t my husband’s vibrant Christmas do; or Mum’s laugh-a-thon; or the red polka-dotted cat I could hear scrambling in the branches of the Christmas tree.

No, the most unbelievable thing I had ever seen was the Doctor allowing Jackie Tyler anywhere near his precious hair. It was an act of absolute trust. And given their rather adversarial history, it was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. I loved them both just a little bit more for adding to the madness of the wonderful adventure I call my life.

Happy Christmas, Santa! Send my love to Mrs. Claus, and the elves and reindeer too. Hope you all have a year full of mental adventures!

** Love, Rose **


	14. December 24th, 2029 (Prompt: Peace)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes trouble finds you, no matter how well you plan, no matter how careful you are, no matter how many times you check the coordinates, but we just have to move on because life without a bit of wonder and adventure isn’t really much of a life at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you always, my darling Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci. I love working with you ladies. You make me a better writer!  
> Trigger warning for scenes of violence and warfare and grave injury.
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Peace _.__

* * *

December 24th, 2029

Dear Father Christmas,

It’s funny how when you become a parent, your perspective completely changes. Gallivanting around the universe, throwing ourselves in the face of danger for the greater good have had to be curtailed quite a bit. And me and the Doctor, we’re both okay with that. I mean we still gallivant an awful lot. Just because we’re not risking our lives and saving the universe at every stop along the way doesn’t mean we’ve lost any of the sense of adventure.

The Doctor once said, “Trouble’s just the bits in between.” What he was really saying is that the real adventure lies in just experiencing the universe: seeing new things; exploring the wonders that are just around the next corner. Tiny wonders, grand wonders; they’re all amazing in their own right.

But sometimes trouble finds _you_ , no matter how well you plan, no matter how careful you are, no matter how many times you check the coordinates. 

Trouble found us a few weeks ago.

The minute we opened the TARDIS doors, we should have turned around and gone back in. I could feel the Doctor’s concern prickling through our bond, but nothing seemed out of place, so he stepped forward onto the grassy field. Wilfred and Charlie, whooping and shouting, pushed past me and out through the doors behind their father.

Hope sauntered behind them, looking thoughtfully around her as she went. She remarked how hot and dry the air was. The purplish grass beneath our feet was charred black at the edges, and I could see puffs of arid soil blow into the air where Charlie and Wilfred disturbed the ground as they tussled and chased in an impromptu game of tag.

I could still feel the uneasiness in the Doctor’s mind, but on the outside he was his normal, chipper self, regaling us as we ambled along the trail about the fertile soils, and the succulent ubuli berries which were the single most valuable export from this planet. I couldn’t help but notice, as the perspiration trickled down my back, the soil didn’t seem very fertile. The place was like a bloody desert; not the sort of place you’d expect “succulent” berries to grow. I pointed this out.

“Yes that’s very strange…” he muttered and I felt his worry. But then he was rambling on again about how today was the day of the ubuli festival, where one could sample ubuli pies, ubuli stew, ubuli jam, ubuli tea, and hundreds of other confections, savouries, and beverages made with the berries. Then there were the soaps and lotions, oils, the cleaning products, the candles, the medicines and tonics. The berry was considered one of the wonders of the universe, so versatile and so delicious, it really had no equal. “Aaaaand,” the Doctor was spouting, “just around this bend, there is a small village, a perfect place to…”

His voice trailed away, and fear clenched my heart as a burst of warning surged through our bond. Ahead, where the village should have been, were the scorched remains of houses, trails of smoke drifting into the sky.

We needed to get the hell out of there.

“Let’s go. Now!” the Doctor commanded. When he spoke like that, no one questioned him. No one dared.

Wilfred and Charlie, rushing around, playing a little way off the path, turned at the sound of his voice, and began to trot back to join us. Suddenly a fireball careened through the air, smashing into the ground directly in front of them, and sending a cascade of rubble flying.

I watched, helpless, as the bodies of my two youngest babies were flung backwards, and I was knocked off my feet by the aftershock of the explosion. Suddenly soldiers erupted from the smoldering village, firing lasers at another faction, who had just emerged from the brittle undergrowth behind me at the side of the path, both groups heedless of the fact that five innocent tourists were caught in the crossfire.

I heard Charlie’s cries, so faint over the gunfire around us, and scrambled to my feet, ready to do whatever it took to get to her and her brother. Her brother! Wilfred… my baby! I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t hear him. I was frantic and I made to run to him, when the Doctor’s arms caught me about the waist, hauling me to a stop. “You call the TARDIS; I’ll get them.” And he was gone, dodging the gunfire and the flames that burst to life on the parched grass.

Sweat and smoke stinging my eyes made it hard to see the controls on my sonic watch, and I fumbled with the TARDIS recall setting. Finally, I activated it, and the wheeze of her engines filled my ears, (the sound of hope) and she landed precisely next me.

Another explosion sent me reeling. Hope clung to the side of the TARDIS like a lifeline, and then, regaining her balance she flung the doors wide. I was panicking, desperate, and searched for the Doctor through the smoke, but as he emerged, staggering, struggling to stay upright, with Charlie right behind him, I couldn’t bear to acknowledge the sight before me.

I felt my world spinning, caving in on me. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t think; I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch Wilfred’s limp form, dangling from his father’s arms as he hurled through the TARDIS doors.

Then suddenly my senses cleared and the world around me was jarred with the sounds of laser cannons; hectic motions of soldiers distorted in the dust-hazed air; sweat and grit stung my eyes; and the stench of war, blood and death filled my nostrils. I watched as Hope bounded into the TARDIS behind the Doctor, and became aware of Charlie’s hand slipping into mine, tugging me to safety.

The TARDIS doors snapped closed behind me, and that world at war was suddenly gone as though it had never existed.

But it _had_ existed.

It _did_ exist.

The proof was in the grime on my clothes and skin; the fear in Charlie’s eyes; the ringing in my ears from the explosions of bombs; and in the lifeless body of my son who lay in the infirmary.

“Mum! Mum!” Charlie’s insistent voice challenged my brain and body to function. “Mum, we need to get into the Vortex. Now!”

I felt so helpless. So useless. But, this, this was something I could do. Take my family to safety. Better late than never, yeah.

I stepped up to the console and began to push buttons and pull switches and spin dials, and Charlie followed me, checking my input. Twice more around, each of us. Then, one nod from Charlie, and I pulled the final lever into position and we left the madness of that warzone behind to float in the peace of the Vortex.

I searched for the Doctor along our bond, but he had closed himself off, probably not wanting to worry me with all he was feeling in that moment. But, I needed him. Still, Wilfred needed him more, and he wouldn't appreciate all of my emotions affecting his concentration.

I collapsed to the floor, sobbing, and Charlie’s arms wrapped around me, seeking out our bond. We cried together for a minute or two, then determined, we each pushed our emotions deep down inside our souls, wiped our tears, and with a deep breath walked through the infirmary doors.

Everything was dead quiet apart from the beeping of medical equipment. Wilfred lay there, looking small and helpless as the Doctor and Hope worked over him. As I watched Hope work, quickly and steadily, alongside her father, I felt such pride and joy as I realized what a strong young woman she was becoming. Then I felt guilt over being able to feel anything but worry for my son. It’s mental how it’s possible to feel so many conflicting emotions in a single moment. The Doctor met my gaze, and despite that our bond wasn’t open, I could tell he was experiencing the same emotional conflict as me. He offered me a small tight smile, and returned his attention back to his patient.

Just half an hour later (though it seemed like forever), me and the Doctor each were clinging to one of Wilfred’s hands, sending him all our love through our parental bond. He was all right. He would be all right. He had a concussion, a couple of broken ribs, but also a serious spinal fracture. I couldn’t be thankful enough for all of the state of the art (circa 640th Century) medical equipment the Doctor had insisted on acquiring for the TARDIS after my injury a few years back. Without it, Wilfred’s prognosis would have not been “expecting a full recovery”.

We stayed in the Vortex for a few days, and the stillness and quiet set me on edge. I think the Doctor was feeling the same, but he still wouldn’t open up to me. He didn’t even speak to me or look at me, unless it was about day to day things. There again, I was doing the same to him. The guilt over what had happened was eating away at us.

That’s when I realized why we used to keep leaping from one death-defying adventure to another. That lifestyle allowed us to run and hide from our deeper feelings; the immediacy of the more primal emotions, the fight and flight responses, overshadowed the urge to indulge in the more complex ones. Like guilt. So much guilt…

But we had also learned the hard way that running from our feelings didn’t make it any easier to face them later on. Me and the Doctor spent so much time in our early days together in the Prime Universe, not communicating properly, and it had cost us years of our lives before I was able to get back to him. But in this universe, we had vowed not to let that happen. Of course, we both broke that vow more than once, but in the end, we always discovered we were stronger together.

We needed to talk.

I found him standing with his back to me, watching the kids play. Wilfred was in his bed, recuperating, and his sisters were entertaining him with two of Charlie’s drones, two beautiful butterflies she’d dubbed Mothra and Battra, who were currently battling it out above him. They were all laughing, uninhibited, their joy filling the TARDIS. I envied them.

I took the Doctor’s hand and led him away, wrapping his mind in my thoughts, trying to weaken the barriers he’d put up to keep me out. I took him to bed, reluctant though he was, and we made love, though his bond was still closed to me. But afterwards, as we lay there, he traced his fingers along the ugly, ragged scar that crossed from one side of my abdomen to the other, and pressed kisses along it. His tears were wetting my skin and suddenly, he opened his soul to me, a mad flood of emotions, pent up over the last few days.

“I knew we should have gone straight back, but I didn’t,” he sobbed aloud, and I stroked his hair. “I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“Me too, love. I knew it too.”

Whether we’re human or Time Lord… we’re living, thinking beings, and sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we choose to turn right instead of left; sometimes we don’t think things through; sometimes we just long for adventure so badly we ignore our instincts. Whatever the reason, we just have to move on with life and try to _learn_ from our mistakes, because life without a bit of wonder and adventure isn’t really much of a life at all.

Just yesterday, at Wilfred’s request for our first TARDIS adventure since he was injured, we returned to that same planet a few decades earlier in its timeline: it was lush and green and the fields were filled with ubuli berry bushes everywhere you looked. Hedgerows lined the path, and the village was filled with friendly chatter and smells of baking. It was sad to think of what the future held for these kind people. They couldn’t know a three-year drought would hit them in just twenty years’ time. Angry, bankrupt merchants, who relied on the ubuli berries for their trade, would gather armies to declare war on this peaceful, agrarian society, in retaliation for not being able to send their usual harvest.

Me and the Doctor wrapped our arms around one another, joy and peace filling our souls, as we watched our son running and playing, carefree, with his sisters. And when he took a huge bite of ubuli berry pie and grinned at us with a big, purple mustache of berry juice, we knew the adventure would always be worth the risk.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Hope you enjoy the ubuli berry treats we left you this year. There are enough to share with everyone, even the reindeer have their own special ubuli snacks!

** love, Rose **


	15. December 24, 2030 (Prompt: Tree)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilfred has a special gift for his father this Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bits of this story, refer to another work of mine in the series, [ So Here’s the Thing ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11567622%20) Check it out, if you haven’t already. It takes place in the summer prior to this chapter, and is one of my favourites among my works.
> 
> And can I just say: Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci, betas extraordinaires! 
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Tree_.

* * *

December 24th, 2030

Dear Father Christmas,

With all the hustle and bustle of this time of year, it’s such a relief to just take the time to relax and breathe a little. The last few weeks have been the usual frenetic rush, especially with the Hand in Hand Festive Feast to get into order, though this being the fourth year, we’ve got a system in place that really works. But today, on top of all that, it seems as though the family is scattered to the four winds, and I’m spending most of my day just hoping they’d get home in time for tea.

Hope is out with some of her friends from her school days who she’s managed to keep in touch with. She and her girlfriends have no doubt been giggling and making fools of themselves at the shopping mall all afternoon.

Charlie and Therin are working down at Hand in Hand all day. Therin’s  going to spend the night here tonight, and he couldn’t be happier. He’s completely besotted with Charlie, and will take any excuse to spend time with her. The poor sap. Charlie is a devout friend to him (he’s her best friend) but she doesn’t harbour any romantic feelings. She’s only twelve, though, and he’s nearly fifteen, but it looks like he’s willing to wait until she catches up. I’m just a little concerned (for Therin) that Charlie’s sights may point elsewhere once she matures. She can be a fickle little pickle. It should be interesting…

Wilfred’s been in a gruff little mood all day, reminding me more and more with each passing moment of the Doctor the way he was when we first met. He’s the spitting image, to be honest. (Strange how that works…) Anyway, he’s been out at the treehouse working on some project or other all afternoon. He’s been stomping in and out of the house, collecting tools from the basement, and tracking snow all over the place while he’s at it. Of course I called him out on it, and told him to clean it up, but he just told me “No time, Mum. I’ve gotta get Dad’s gift together.” He frowned. “It’s being difficult.”

I asked him what the gift was and if he needed any help.

“Nope! It’s a secret.” His frown transformed into a giant grin “But if I can get it to work, it’ll be _fan_ tastic!”

I shivered a little at the way he said that word, and couldn’t resist saying “Look at you, beaming away like Father Christmas!” just to see how he would respond.

He didn’t disappoint. “Who says I’m not? After giving Dad this great gift, I’ll have you all believing!” (Time Lord genetics can have interesting results…)

I shooed him out and reminded him to take off his shoes at the patio door next time he tramped in. I watched him climb back up into the tree and disappear inside the treehouse. The smooth surface of the wood still amazed me. While I was away last summer for a few days, Wilfred had devised a sonic setting that worked on wood, and it basically melted the planks of the little building together into a smooth, unbroken surface. While the Doctor was a bit miffed to be one-upped by a ten year-old, he’d been thrilled about this discovery, as he’d been trying to get the sonic to work on wood for centuries (literally).

Speaking of whom… My husband has disappeared into the ether as well. Poof! I think he said he was going over to my mum’s to fix her dishwasher, even though I told him not to bother. (“Don’t be ridiculous, Rose! I’ll have it sorted in no time!”) Blimey, I’m bracing myself for Mum’s irate phone call, later. I did suggest to him that he just wait for Charlie to take care of it tomorrow. Actually, _any_ of the kids would be a better choice than him. Or even Dad! (No, scratch that… not Dad!) But where was I? Oh, yeah, anytime the Doctor tries to fix Mum’s things they either end up worse off than they were to begin with or they suddenly become very good at doing something they were never intended to do in the first place. My bet is that by tonight my mum will have a dishwasher that plays Mariachi Christmas tunes. Just you wait and see!

Tea is ready to go whenever we need it. As usual, I make a simple fare of soup and fresh bread for Christmas Eve, so I’ve loads of time to kill. Maybe I’ll get out my paints. It’s been a while. And that tree house looks so pretty, covered in snow.

\--ooOoo--

As it turns out, everyone seemed to converge on the house at once in a great deal of loud chatter and stomping feet and rosy cheeks, and just in time for tea! We all gathered around the table, everyone sharing their news of the day and we tucked into our pumpkin-chestnut soup and fresh-baked bread. Just as me and the Doctor were about to get biscuits and hot chocolate for everyone for dessert, Wilf spoke up.

“I have a surprise. A gift for Dad, but I want to give it to him tonight, if that’s all right.” He continued to explain how we would all need to go out to the treehouse for the gift. He’d prepared our 81st Century ultrawarm sleeping bags already. We all just needed to climb in and enjoy.

Hope suggested we could have our cocoa and biscuits while we were out there, and offered to prepare it while everyone got ready to go. (I got the impression she was in on Wilfred’s little secret, and may even have assisted a bit at some point.) Everyone cheered at this suggestion, and bundled into warm jumpers, hats, and mitts. Once we all had our boots on we trudged out into the snow. The Doctor filled a tin with biscuits, Therin carried an assortment of whipped cream, marshmallows, chocolate curls, and peppermint sticks for topping our cocoa, and Hope filled our (also 81st Century) thermal carafe full to the brim with steaming, rich hot chocolate.

Wilfred had decorated the treehouse with sparkling, colourful fairy lights. It was beautiful against the backdrop of snow, and made me want to get out my paints again. Once we were all inside, the little structure became lovely and cosy. It really wasn’t so little. It was more than big enough to accommodate all six of us quite comfortably. It was a little awkward juggling hot chocolate and biscuits and sleeping bags, but it was completely brilliant fun, too! The Doctor wrapped his arm around me, and I snuggled happily against him.

Once we were all settled, Charlie, getting impatient, piped up, “Okay so let’s see this amazing gift, yeah!”

The tips of Wilfred’s much loved, but a-little-too-large ears turned red, so Hope nodded her reassurance, and he pointed to the ceiling.

“I don’t see anything but the ceiling, doof,” Charlie needled him, in a friendly, Charlie-ish way.

“Gimme a mo!” he groused back. “Honestly, you lot…”

“Take your time, son,” the Doctor reassured him.

A few seconds later, Wilfred produced Hope’s sonic lip gloss from his pocket (so she _had_ been helping him out…) and aimed it at the ceiling. There was a little buzz, and then a portion of the ceiling seemed to melt away, crumpling inwards until it formed a large, transparent circle in the centre. “I’ve created a new wood setting!” he announced.

The Doctor cheered. “You made it transparent! We can stargaze now! And it’s a perfect night for it too! What a brilliant gift! Thank-you, Wilf! I can never programme those wood settings properly. Good to have you around to do that for me!”

Soon, we were all reclined, sipping our hot chocolates, munching on biscuits, and staring up at the stars, dreaming of which ones we could visit next. A shooting star went by and, I admit, I made a wish. I know I’m not supposed to tell, but I think I can tell you, Santa. I wished that no matter how far my family was scattered across the galaxy, they would always find their way home.

Happy Christmas, Santa. I hope you and Mrs. Claus and the reindeer and elves have a lovely, restful Christmas, and that you always find your way home safely every Christmas morning.

**love, Rose**

Oh. My. God, Santa. I just _had_ to tell you! I’m dying laughing. Me and the Doctor are heading to bed (he’s off brushing his teeth at the mo), and Mum just called, not two minutes ago. She’s gone completely off her trolley! She turned on her dishwasher, and surprisingly enough, it washes her dishes just fine, but (and my guess was pretty close, I’ll tell ya!) apparently the Doctor rigged it to play _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ on auto-repeat for the full wash cycle. I am so going to kill him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Jackie’s dishwasher now plays is [ Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ok5WsPYcj5Y) The Doctor couldn’t resist (and neither could I!)


	16. December 24th, 2031 (Prompt: Holiday Music)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose reflects on the growth of Hand in Hand, and the changes for her family in the coming year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, newsy chapter… enjoy!
> 
> I would be lost without my betas, the wonderful mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula! <3 They've helped me so much to get to this halfway point without falling behind! (((((hugs)))))
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Holiday Music_.

* * *

December 24th, 2031

Dear Father Christmas,

As a family, we’ve always loved music. We’re not especially talented (except for Hope, she’s actually quite gifted; it seems no matter what instrument she picks up it sounds beautiful in her hands.) But the rest of us are only fair to middling. But we’ve always had so much fun with it. And when the Christmas season rolls around, just try and stop us belting out our favourite tunes!

And nowhere is Christmas music more fun to sing than at the Hand in Hand Festive Feast. I dunno, it just seems like the combination of great music and good food bring people together like nothing else. The music scene at the Feast has taken on a life of its own over the years. People show up with instruments in hand and just get together in little groups and sing and play! Ordinary people; celebrities; the people we’re supporting. Everyone! Jamming together. No one unimportant. It is such a brilliant experience, and something we all look forward to every year.

After the Hand in Hand’s second Festive Feast, a few years back, a rather star-struck Charlie approached some of the celebrities, and discussions got going about holding a massive concert, a music festival, where loads of artists would come together to do a live show as another major fundraiser for the charity.

By this time, local and federal politicians had been convinced to review the mothballed plans for the refurbishment of the neglected areas, and as it turned out, one of the biggest plans for Peckham was the creation of a huge multi-media auditorium and sports complex, right on the site of the former Powell Estate. With a lot of coaxing from the right people (including Charlie, the tireless little shit-disturber herself), resettlement of the residents and construction were quickly underway.

Charlie was desperate for the first Hand in Hand Music Festival to take place in the new facility and was crushed when she realized how long it would take to build such a structure. Not only would the current residents need to be safely rehoused, but the sheer scope of the construction was massive, taking in not only the construction of the auditorium, but the surrounding community as well. As a result, the concert has had to be held every summer at another site in the city.

It took a few years, but this past summer, Charlie officially opened the Charlotte Tyler-Noble Arts and Sports Coliseum, officially owned by Vitex, and the inaugural event was the Hand in Hand Music Festival. She was so proud. And we were all so proud of her. It was her initiative and persistence that had made all of this possible.

With all the redevelopment taking place in the area, we’ve had to be flexible about the site of the Festive Feast from year to year. This year, with most of the construction complete, and the fledgling community starting to thrive, we’re holding it in the massive green space and park, that was set aside right in the middle of the area. Central Peckham Park! I’ve gotta say, I laughed with pure joy at the sight! A huge park, right smack in the middle of Peckham! What I wouldn’t have given to have had that when I was growing up!

Of course, the question arose, now with the underprivileged areas redeveloped and flourishing, what was the point of Hand in Hand? Charlie’s answer was that London was not the only city in Britain that had homeless and destitute residents, and Britain was not the only country in the world. Proceeds from Hand in Hand would continue to support the needs of people in London and across the globe.

We are all so looking forward to putting all the politics aside for a day, though, and just enjoying the Feast tomorrow: singing and dancing with friends and family; a community of people from all walks of life, sitting down together and sharing a meal. What could be better than that?

And I’m going to hold on to the memories we make tomorrow, because it might be the last Christmas our family all spends together for some time. Come the New Year, my Hope is off to the stars. She has been enrolled at the Bontane Medical Academy on Edifinol Beta, a human colony, far in the future, in the 51th Century. The university is renowned for producing some of the top medical minds in all of human history… the Doctor checked.

My baby girl… Santa, I don’t know what I’m going to do. She’s still so young. Fifteen. I reckon me and the Doctor will be visiting in the TARDIS… a _lot!_ But, I suppose, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Charlie and her venture, it’s to never underestimate my kids and their ability to cope with a wide variety of situations. Hope is mature and collected, and completely brilliant. She’s out to make the world a better place in her own understated way, a very different way from Charlie, but no less significant.

I’m going to say Happy Christmas, for now, Santa.  I’m going to call my family together, turn on the Christmas tunes, and dance around the living room! A warm-up for tomorrow!

I hope you and Mrs. Claus and the elves and reindeer all get to enjoy time spent together, singing and dancing.

**love, Rose**


	17. December 24th, 2032 (Prompt: Presents)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hope can’t make it home for Christmas, Rose and the Doctor decide to bring a little bit of Christmas to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula: I keep trying to explain how much these ladies mean to me… and I just can’t find enough words. 
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Presents_.

* * *

December 24th, 2032

Dear Father Christmas,

Presents come in all shapes and sizes; some are wrapped in pretty paper and ribbons; some can’t be wrapped at all. But, regardless what form a gift takes, it is the thought behind it that really matters, the love that went into choosing it.

A couple of days ago, I had just received word from Hope that she definitely wasn’t going to be able to make it home for Christmas this year. I had known she wasn’t going to be able to just drop all her studies and leave; I just kept hoping that somehow, miraculously, something would happen to change the inevitable. But calendars in the 51st Century don’t precisely align with 21st Century ones; holidays have changed and evolved over the years, and Christmas isn’t quite Christmas anymore, not on Earth, at any rate. And certainly not on Edifinol Beta, human colony or not.

I reckon I set myself up for disappointment, trying to be optimistic, and I wish I had been more realistic about it, ‘cause the disappointment absolutely crushed me. I just sat there, by the Christmas tree, fingering the little oblong package that was meant for Hope, blubbing my eyes out. And suddenly the Doctor came rushing through the front door, and wrapped his arms around me. He already knew what was wrong and had tried to soothe me over our bond, but somehow nothing matched the comfort of pressing close to him and breathing in his scent, of feeling his hands in my hair and his kisses on my cheeks.

I remember whinging about how Hope would never get her gift, which was absolute rubbish, but it sure felt that way at the time. Looking back, I was being a right misery, and the Doctor was just taking it in his stride, and being the best sort of comfort I could ever imagine.

Then he stood up. “Right!” he said. “Into the TARDIS. If Hope can’t come to us, then we can go to her.”

Santa, I must have looked like a bloody loony gawping at him. All I could say was, “What? Right now?”

Yup that’s what he meant. Right now!

He bustled me through the TARDIS doors (she was a wardrobe in the study at the moment) and set the coordinates for Hope’s residence at the Bontane Medical Academy. He told me not to worry about the kids: he’d already arranged for their Gran and Grandad to look after them for a few days, and he didn't think they minded, despite Mum’s grousing about last minute plans (I knew he was right) and he promised me would be back by Christmas Eve. He was bouncing around the console, triple checking the coordinates. “Allons-y!”

I must have looked a fright with teary eyes and wearing a hideous onesie that I kept for when I was relaxing at home, but the Doctor reminded me that Hope wasn’t likely to care (I knew he was right about _that,_ too!) And when we landed and my precious baby girl came flying into the TARDIS to hug me and the Doctor, I didn’t care much either. It just felt so wonderful to see her and hold her in my arms again.

“Happy Christmas!” the Doctor cheered and the TARDIS hummed with excitement. Hope stroked her affectionately, a smile on her face.

I hadn’t seen her for a couple of months, and it seemed she had changed and matured so much in that short period of time. She was wearing her hair a new way, and her clothes were, naturally, a 51st Century design.  It was strange, but it all suited her so well, like this was how she was meant to look. I felt sort of shy around her for some reason, like she was a familiar stranger, and I suppose in a way she was, living a new life on her own, beyond the reach of our daily guidance and input.

Unable to speak, I just held out the little wrapped oblong box for her to take, and then she proceeded to drive me mental with her meticulous picking at the bits of tape, pulling them away so they wouldn’t tear the paper. All my shyness disappeared. This was just my beloved, infuriating child. “Oh, just bloody open it, you daft thing!”

When she finally got inside the package, she pulled out her new sonic device. But it wasn’t just _any_ sonic device. This device was also a multifunctional medical tool. It used transspatial technology to switch among different functional tips which included an adjustable laser setting, and a variety of different surgical implements common in the 51 st Century. It had been my idea and the Doctor had spent many long hours designing and creating it.

And Hope’s response was everything I could have hoped for. She was beaming from ear to ear, and giving us hugs of thanks and love.

When we finally pulled apart, I asked her if we could take her for tea.

“I have a little time. I know this great place that serves the best chips ever! When I found it, I thought of you right away, Mum!”

“Chips it is!” Well, what else could I say to an offer like that?

We spent a few lovely, too-short hours with our very first baby girl before she had to rush off to an evening lab, off to her life, separate from ours. And, of course, I started crying again, once the TARDIS doors shut behind us.

“C’mon love,” the Doctor said, hugging me tight against him, “we have a whole day before we’re due back for Christmas Eve. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. A quiet evening in, and we can find a brilliant adventure tomorrow!”  And so we spent the evening sipping hot chocolate, and sitting in the TARDIS doorway, our legs dangling into space, as we watched a nebula whirling before us, like a million of the brightest fairy lights in a million different colours.

“She’ll be all right, won’t she?” I asked him. I knew she would be, but I just needed to hear it.

“Of course she will: she has a superhero for a mum and a genius for a dad,” the Doctor reminded me, “and she’ll always be our little girl.”

I had to laugh at that. When she had opened her present today, the look on her face was the same look she had had on Christmas morning when she wasn’t even two years old. She had meticulously picked open her gift then too: a little toy sonic.

This, I realized, was what gift giving was all about: seeing the joy and wonder shining in the recipient’s face. And honestly, seeing those emotions on Hope’s face was the very best gift I could possibly have received in return.

You must have the best job in the world, Santa, knowing you bring that joy to everyone around the world.

Happy Christmas to you and Mrs. Claus, and I’d never forget to wish the elves and reindeer a happy Christmas too!

**love to you all, Rose**


	18. December 24, 2033 (Prompt: Ice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: When Rose receives a call telling her that Hope is unwell, she and the Doctor go to her rescue and run into a very familiar stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci are the absolute best. Thank-you, my darlings.
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Ice_.

* * *

December 24 th , 2033

Dear Father Christmas,

It’s a funny little multiverse. After everything I’ve experienced throughout space and time, and in multiple universes, I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason (or at least that there are no coincidences.) I could chalk this up to being the natural consequence of the way the multiverse works or some sort of divine intervention. The Doctor would probably say it was something else entirely, and he’d be right.

I know for a fact that much of my life has not been a result of random chance. Intervention, yes, but not divine by any means. I created the words. I scattered them in time and space. I saw everything: all that is; all that was; all that ever could be. But I had no experience or skill, and I had the emotional intelligence of a nineteen year old London shop girl. I’d tweaked timelines here and there, an imperfect attempt to control my fate, the Doctor’s fate. Sporadically, the words still appear sometimes, and when they do, we can only hold on tight and ride out what Bad Wolf has in store for us.

Last week, my mobile rang while I was at work. I was teaching _Integration 101_ to a diverse group of newly settled aliens, doing some role play on basic greetings, body language, and personal space. It wasn’t going very well, especially the personal space portion. The classroom was full of irritated voices as the group came to terms with the fact that personal space meant something very different for each species and none of it was appropriate for human interaction.

I was frustrated to say the least, especially when the Glooboorg insisted on bouncing around the room (literally! Its body was very rounded and elastic and, well… bouncy. Friendly as they are, I’m not certain the human race is quite ready to meet the Glooboorgs, and perception filters can only filter out so much.)

Anyway, I was unable to reach my phone before it rang out, but it was just Hope. She didn’t leave a message, so I assumed she’d realized I was busy and she would try to reach me later. It wouldn’t be the first time. But then, just as I was turning back to call my class to order, she rang again. The group was noisy and boisterous and I could barely hear the voice on the other end of the line. But I could hear enough to know that it wasn’t Hope.

It was male.

It said: “Mrs. Tyler-Noble?” There was something familiar about the voice… the accent perhaps. I couldn’t put my finger on it. The din in the classroom was making it difficult to sort it out.

Anyway, I confirmed who I was, and asked him what the hell he was doing with my daughter’s mobile. My heart went into overdrive when he told me.

He said my daughter was unwell, but he was keeping her safe for the time being. He didn’t know where she lived, and she wasn’t in any condition to talk, and did I know her address so he could take her home.

I had so many questions. So many! But I couldn’t even think of what to ask. I turned to the class and told them to hush so I could hear, so I could think. I finally told the man I would be right there to take care of Hope myself.

“Sorry? What? How is that possible?” _He_ seemed quite capable of coming up with great questions. _He_ wasn’t panicking about his seventeen year old daughter, unconscious in the arms of a stranger, a thousand light years and three times that in temporal years away. “I should tell you my name and where we are, at least, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t argue with that, though I could easily trace her mobile and have the TARDIS lock onto her coordinates. Still, even as frightened as I was, I had the sense to know it would be best not to materialize the TARDIS in too public a spot.

He told me his name, but I barely caught it in the uproar caused by the Glooboorg knocking over one of the other students. It sounded something like “Derrek Shane”. He confirmed he was on Edifinol Beta, and in the city where Hope was studying. I could hardly hear him, to be honest. But all the maddening distractions faded into the background when he told me where in the city I’d find him.

“We’re just outside a club. It’s called _The Bad Wolf_.”

\--ooOoo--

The Doctor was already waiting for me by the time I dismissed my class early for the day and gathered my things. He had the car running and we took off at high speed. It took a frustratingly long time to get home, and we decided we would “time it”, and program the TARDIS to land a minute or so after my conversation with the stranger (Derrek someone-or-other) had ended.

We landed in an alley about a block away from the club, the TARDIS materializing as our favourite (and somewhat reassuring) blue Police Public Call Box. It was night, but the streets in the area were well lit and designed primarily for foot traffic, so although it was busy, it was quite easy to find the club. But even if it hadn’t been visible, honestly, the waves of music throbbing from it would have given it away.

There sitting on a public bench, slumped against a young man’s shoulder was Hope. I rushed toward her across the street, shouting her name. The Doctor was hot on my heels.

The young man looked up at me and I swear I nearly passed out from shock.

“Hey,” he said. “You weren’t kidding about getting here fast! Pretty impressive. I’d like to get my hands on that kind of technology. I mean Hope’s told me about how she comes from a very distant colony. To get here that quickly...”

“Jack?” The only word that came out of my mouth, because that’s who it was, sitting right in front of me with his arm around my daughter… Jack Bloody Harkness. But so young, maybe in his mid-twenties

“Nope, sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else. Javic Thane’s the name.” He held out his hand to me, and stunned, I extended my hand to him. He brought it to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Well, I can certainly see where your daughter comes by her good looks.”

Despite my overwhelming worry for Hope, I found something comforting in the familiarity of his audacious come-ons, and cheesy pick-up lines, so much like the man I once knew.

The Doctor growled. “You can just stop flirting with my wife, _right now_.”

I raised an eyebrow at Jack… sorry, no… Javic, and sat on the other side of Hope. I pulled her against me, relief flooding through me to have her in my arms.

“I was just saying hello.” (Of course he would answer with that!)

“For you, that’s flirting. And if I find you’ve been trying to pull my daughter…”

“Whoa! Wait a minute, Mr. Tyler-Noble−”

Blimey, the Doctor hated that title. “No, don’t call me that. I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor Tyler-Noble?”

“No, just the Doctor.”

Jack… Javic seemed skeptical about the name but he ploughed on with his story. “All right… Doc, (do you mind if I call you Doc?) listen I do admit, when your daughter first walked into the club, I _was_ attracted to her. I mean, who wouldn’t be. She’s… well, she’s beautiful.” He hurried on with his story when the Doctor growled again. Apparently when he’d spoken to Hope, he’d realized how young she was and had immediately stopped trying to pull her. She’d seemed a little out of her element and he was trying to be nice. He’d bought her a drink (non-alcoholic at her request); something he described as a Virgin Ginger Cream Schnapps, a drink popular for kicking off the Festivitide season. They had talked for a bit while she sipped her drink and then, her confidence bolstered, she’d run off to join her friends.

The Doctor, of course, accused him of spiking her drink with something.

“First, that’s illegal, and while I’m not above a having little fun at the expense of the authorities, I could never do that to another person. That’s _not_ fun. It’s just wrong. And second, why the hell would I spike her drink and then call you up to come get her? Your logic’s flawed, Doc.”

I confirmed Javic’s story. I’d run a quick scan of Hope with my sonic: she was drunk, but there were no other drugs in her system. I asked him if he knew how she got drunk, since it seemed she’d been planning to stick with virgin drinks.

“Well, you understand, it’s not like I was stalking her or anything, but there was something about her… Look Doc, I told you, it was nothing like that. I just felt like… I needed to protect her, and believe me, it sounds as unlikely to me as it does to you.”

He said she’d gone off with her friends, and then he told us about Alko-Ice, a new product that was making the rounds in clubs. Apparently, the molecular structure of alcohol was modified so it could be frozen at temperatures just below the freezing point of water. The kids played a game with it, a race to see who could melt the most ice chips on their tongue in the least amount of time.

“But, seriously,” he said, “there’s not much alcohol in them. The kids just like the nifty flavours and colours they come in.” He went on to explain that Hope hadn’t really looked as though she’d wanted to play, but her friends had been pretty pushy about it. Javic had even been about to intervene, but she’d already started. “Doc, she didn’t even play for that long. She couldn’t; could barely even stand after the first few minutes.”

True enough. I noticed there was actually hardly any alcohol in her system, certainly not enough to account for her current state, and while she was clearly very intoxicated, none of my scans indicated she was in any immediate danger.

After I nudged him over our bond, the Doctor grudgingly thanked Javic for looking after Hope. He extended his hand for a handshake, but in true “Jack” style, Javic brought the Doctor’s hand to his lips the way he’d done mine. “Well, it’s been a slice.” He made to walk away, back inside the club, but he turned to us before he slipped in. “Hey, if you two are ever up for a ménage à trois… It could be fun. I don’t like to boast, but I’m not just another pretty face…” He ran a long, lingering look over the Doctor’s slim body, which earned him another impatient growl. “All right, all right, I’m going!”

I called good-bye and thank-you to him, and he waved cheekily as he turned to the bouncer at the door of the club and immediately tried to pull him. I don’t care what the hell he called himself… _that_ was Jack Harkness.

\--ooOoo--

Back in the safety of the TARDIS, the Doctor did a proper scan of Hope. It seems she’s inherited the Time Lord sensitivity to ginger. Even a smidge of it will render a Time Lord susceptible to the effects of alcohol. In short, despite superior physiology, they can get thoroughly plastered (as I have been lucky enough to witness on at least one occasion.) Poor Hope, with otherwise mostly human physiology, and having consumed a large amount of ginger in the “ginger cream schnapps”, was probably completely pissed before she’d barely swallowed more than three of those Alko-Ice chips.

The Doctor administered something to counteract the effects of the ginger, so her body could process the alcohol properly. He waited impatiently for her to wake up, pacing, and projecting his anger and disappointment over our bond. I tried to get him to calm down, but he wasn’t having any of it. Eventually he left the infirmary, probably off to fiddle with bits of the TARDIS, keeping himself busy while he waited.

Hope finally opened her eyes blearily (the Doctor told me she would likely have one hell of a hangover), and looked around her, confused. I stroked her hair, projecting my love to her.

“Mama?” Oh my heart! She hadn’t called me that since she was about three or four. I just kept sending her my love, and I explained to her what had happened. She was frightened and so very sorry to have made us worry. She and her friends had gone out to celebrate the end of their first term. She’d never planned to drink or even try those ice chips. Her friends had been so insistent, she figured she’d just have one or two to appease them, and then back out, but she’d started feeling so faint…

That’s when the Doctor decided to bluster in like the Oncoming bloody Storm. Honestly, I’ve never seen such a rant. It started off with “You, little madam…” and ended a long while later with some nonsense about her coming home with us and never coming back to “…this blasted Slytheen’s arse of a planet.” Hope was beside herself, sobbing and pleading with him to reconsider, but he’d stomped off, ignoring any of my attempts to mentally calm him. A few seconds later, I felt the TARDIS’ flight sequence activate. Apparently, we were heading home.

I told Hope to give him time, and suggested she should just come and spend Christmas with us, but she was hysterical. She couldn’t miss classes. The new term was beginning in two days, and Christmas was still a week away…

“We have a time machine, Hopie,” I reminded her. “I imagine we can break our rules, just this once, and time it for you.” We’d already timed it to come to get her tonight, but I wasn’t about to tell her that! “Your Dad’s going to need to cool off, yeah, but he’ll come around.”

\--ooOoo--

The Doctor had been scared. I get that. But it was only this morning, a _full week_ later, he finally admitted he “might have overreacted”.

I’d been after him all week to ease up a bit. I made the mistake of telling him that when I was even younger than Hope, I’d gone to clubs nearly every weekend, and frequently come home pissed. I think I just made things worse. He lost it… again. Said he didn’t need me to tell _him_ that. He _knew_. After he’d lost me to this universe, he admitted he’d go back in time to watch over me and make sure I was safe. He said he’d bumped into Jack a few times, too, doing the same.

I didn’t know whether to feel angry or grateful toward the two idiots. It was all they could do, I suppose, protecting a younger me from the world. In the end, I just felt loved, by the older brother I always wished I’d had, and the man I wanted to spend forever with.

But it wasn’t lost on me, the similarity between Jack watching over me and Javic looking out for Hope, and it made me think. I still couldn’t figure out what had rattled the Doctor more: the idea of Hope going to a club, or the appearance of Bad Wolf and our not-so-coincidental meeting of Jack’s parallel counterpart. I’m guessing probably the combination of both.

I know he wasn’t impressed with my teenaged self’s frequent drunkenness, at least not now that we have children of our own. The idea of Hope going to a club and possibly behaving like that must have been eating away at him, but I eventually managed to assure him that Hope was nothing like me, at least in this. She’s much more level-headed than I ever was. (I decided to keep my thoughts about Charlie to myself; she was _very_ much more like me… but the Doctor didn’t need to be worrying about that just now!)

As for Javic, what worried the Doctor most about him, I think, was that this was someone whose parallel self, had been a swindler and a con man before we crossed paths with him, not to mention a pan-sexual lothario. But I think I managed to convince him on this too. Javic’s past may have been very different from Jack’s, and I firmly believe, in spite of him being a fraud, Jack had been a good and loyal person who just got off on the wrong track for a while. Having us in his life had changed that. Maybe Hope’s presence would affect Javic. He had certainly put his lothario status aside to protect her, a brotherly act, very similar to how Jack always used to treat me once he realized how much me and the Doctor loved one another, though it took us forever to realize it ourselves.

Apparently, I had managed to get through to the Doctor, ‘cause I came down to the kitchen this morning to find Hope and him making banana pancakes together, and sharing a huge, warm hug. So, needless to say, Hope is spending Christmas with us, and the next morning she’ll be returning to Uni on Edifinol Beta, and we will be timing it to make sure she doesn’t miss any classes.

And as for Javic Thane, if I as Bad Wolf, had seen fit to ensure our paths crossed, I couldn’t believe it was just a passing fancy. He had stumbled across our family for a reason. This wouldn’t be the last time we’d see him, I was sure of it. We would all just have to hold on tight and ride out whatever Bad Wolf had in store for us.

Thanks for listening, Santa. I hope you are lucky enough to come across old friends in your travels, this year. My love to all,

** Rose **


	19. December 24th, 2034 (Prompt: Joy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie creates a new charitable event to support the needs of some young women in the London area secondary schools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, gosh… I think this is it. I have a funny feeling I won’t be able to post tomorrow, as Chapter 20 is long and has just been submitted to my brilliant betas. Still, not a bad run! I will get the remaining stories out as quickly as I can, and hopefully still get them all posted by New Year’s Eve! 
> 
> All the thanks to the incredible aforementioned betas, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula!
> 
> The idea for the event Jackie creates is based on a real event that my kids’ high school holds every year.
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Joy_.

* * *

December 24th, 2034

Dear Father Christmas,

I never had a prom. We didn’t have them back home. We just had these naff dances in the school gymnasium. The most memorable thing about them was sneaking out back with Keisha and Shareen to get sloshed, smoke a few cheeky fags, and to snog the fit blokes from the rugby team. I didn’t go very often, to be honest, and then I fell in with Jimmy Stone and that was the end of that for school dances… for school, period.

But proms are big business here: they have them twice a year to celebrate the end of each term. My kids have never gone because they were never enrolled in the secondary school system. They all went directly from Primary to University. Charlie just completed a couple of degrees in atomic and molecular physics, and engineering physics. Now she’s off studying at a university on some distant Earth colony, thousands of light years away and about three hundred and twenty centuries in the future.

Needless to say, I still get moments when I just can’t wrap my head around it all, even after all I’ve seen and done in my barmy life. Even Charlie’s Hand in Hand charity (left in very good hands while she is away studying,) is so huge and over-the-top in so many ways, it’s just mind-boggling. It was kind of nice when, this Christmas season, I was able to help in a much smaller way, closer to home.

Mum has taken to counselling like a fish to water. I’ll never regret pushing her to take those classes with me all those years ago. The Big Yellow Truck and the women it supports have only benefited from her knowledge, and her certification has given herself and the charity better credibility.

A few months back, I was over at hers for a cuppa. The Doctor and Wilfred were off in the TARDIS, who knows where, for a few days. I hadn’t been able to go with them. There’d been some trouble in the north of Scotland with a UFO sighting: legitimate, for once. An alien spacecraft had crash landed, much of it burning up in the atmosphere upon descent. Unfortunately, no one had survived, but there had been several human witnesses who were extremely distressed and frightened. I needed to stay for a few days to coordinate the clean-up of the site, and the ongoing counselling for the witnesses.

Anyway, by the time I got back, it was just me rattling around in the little blue house, and feeling lonely, so I went to see Mum. That’s when she got started talking about proms. One of the women she counsels has a daughter that goes to one of the local secondary schools. Like me and Mum when I was growing up, they sometimes had a tough time making ends meet, never mind being able to afford to buy a gown for a prom. She’d been awful sad. Her daughter’s prom was the Friday before Christmas, the day term was over and the kids were out for the winter break.

Even with the aid from Hand in Hand, there were still loads of people who had to watch their pennies. But at least they now had decent homes and medical care, and access to good food and training for employment. But that didn’t always mean they could afford a dress for the prom.

“Maybe I should just buy her one. Make it a Christmas gift yeah. What’dya think?”

I told her she couldn’t just go around buying prom dresses for every young girl who couldn’t afford them.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. I wasn’t really going to do it. I just wish there was something I could do to help.”

Therin strolled into the kitchen, where we were sitting. “Prom is a really big deal. When I was in Sixth form, some of the posh girls would get a bit uppish, make the girls who couldn’t afford to go feel like shite. Blimey, I’m glad I don’t have to listen to that rubbish anymore.”

“Enjoying Uni, then, are you?”

He just grinned at me and proceeded to tell me how great it was. He was studying economics and business management, so he could continue to help Charlie run Hand in Hand. Dad was also sizing him up to take over Vitex once he retired. It turned out his extensive hands-on experience with the charity had been more valuable than he could have possibly imagined, and he was sailing through his courses. He’d come a long way from the little homeless orphan Charlie had taken under her wing seven years ago.

He pulled up a chair and a mug and poured himself some tea. “Aunt Jackie,” (he’d started calling her this from early on, and Mum’d been right chuffed) “you don’t need to _buy_ the girl a dress, yeah.” He turned back to our earlier conversation.  “You could just give her one of your old ones. Or Rose’s. You both have so many you wear to all those functions and galas and whatnot.”

Mum just stared at him like he’d grown an extra head.

Therin seemed a little put out and got up to leave us to our tea. “Well, sorry I brought it up. I didn’t think you would be so attached. You only ever wear them the once”

Mum screeched, practically leaped out of her chair, and rushed over to him, giving him a huge hug and planting big wet kisses on his cheeks. (Poor Therin. At least he knew he was loved.) Then she started shouting something about “…the answer to everything!”

\--ooOoo--

All fall, mum was relentless, absolutely driven, unstoppable. She was on a mission and nothing was going to stand in her way. She approached all the secondary schools around London, asking them to discreetly identify any students they felt would be unable to afford to go to prom because of financial concerns. She wrote a letter, as Founder of the Big Yellow Truck, to be given to each identified student.

Then she approached the schools’ parent committee members, the employees at both Vitex and Torchwood, her friends, and of course, the staff at both the Big Yellow Truck and Hand in Hand. She asked them to consider donating their gently used formal dresses and shoes.

Her idea was simple: most women (at least the ones she knew) bought a gown for an occasion and rarely wore it again; Mum asked that they donate them so that young women without the means to buy a dress would be able to choose one of the donated ones and attend prom in style. Further to that, she offered to provide free hair styling to the girls. She had tried very hard to get suits donated for the boys, but men tended to reuse their formal-wear, so not many suits were available. She did convince the tuxedo rental stores around town to donate a couple of rentals each, so the few boys that needed support were able to get it.

Most of the winter proms around the city landed on the Friday before Christmas. A few were on the Saturday. The weekend prior, buses collected the students and brought them to The Big Yellow Truck’s head office and warehouse, where the dresses were stored. Me, Mum, and a whole load of volunteers were on hand to help the girls find the right dress for them. Mum even found a couple of seamstresses willing to donate their time to do minor alterations on the gowns. The gowns were all labelled with the girls’ names. They would all come back the day of the prom to pick up their dresses and get their hair, nails, and make-up done.

Prom day eventually arrived. All the girls were bouncing off the walls with excitement, squealing and giggling and generally having the time of their lives. Me, Mum, and Hope (who was able to make it home for Christmas this year) and loads of other volunteers set to work preparing the girls for their big night. It was hard work, but so rewarding to see the joy on their faces as one by one they left us looking utterly glamorous, and confident enough to take on the world. The young lady, whose mum had originally planted the seed in Jackie Tyler’s brain to create this event, gave her a huge hug, eyes shining. She said she could never thank her enough. Mum practically glowed with pride.

As we waved good-bye to the last girl, Mum dropped into a chair. “Blimey, I’m knackered, I am. And you lot! You were marvelous today, bleedin’ marvelous! I could murder a cuppa, though. Whatd’ya say?”

I was so proud of Jackie Tyler that day. I am every day, to be honest. She’s my Mum. She made a difference in the lives of every single one of those girls (and boys.) She makes a difference in the lives of vulnerable women every day. And she made a difference in my life too, teaching me to stand up for what I believed in; supporting me through the very hardest times of my life; and loving me even when I made some very questionable and regrettable life choices. She’s a very special woman, and I told her so.

“Don’t take the mick, Rose. There’s nothing special about me. I may live in a big mansion and wear all them pretty frocks now, but I’m still Jackie Tyler from Bucknall House, yeah, and I always will be. Nothing remotely special.”

Santa, I just looked her in the eye and I told her: “Yeah, Mum, you are though. You understand what all these poor women you help are going through every day, how it feels to be the girl at the prom who couldn’t afford the dress. And you always tried to make a difference. And now, even though you’ve been given a life of luxury, you’re still you: you don’t flaunt your money. Instead you use it to help others, the way you wished you always could.”

She hugged me so tight, tears in her eyes. I could tell she still didn’t believe me; she probably never would. But I’ll keep reminding her every day and maybe eventually it’ll stick.

Happy Christmas, Santa. I hope you and Mrs. Claus, and the elves and reindeer always realize how special you are, too, for everything you do each year.

**love, Rose**


	20. December 24, 2035 (Prompt: Rosy Cheeks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jackie suffers a massive stroke, the family comes together to help her fight for her life, but no one is more determined to save her than the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late… I was so tired last night I kept falling asleep doing final edits, so I decided to wait for the morning. I have no other chapters banked at this point, and I will be travelling for the holidays today, so it may be a few days before I post again. 
> 
> Many thanks to my very own elves. Rose_Nebula and mrsbertucci pulled another trick out of their collective Santa hat and got this chapter betaed. You ladies are brilliant!
> 
>  **TRIGGER WARNING!** for life-threatening illness of a major character. 
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Rosy Cheeks_.

* * *

December 24th, 2035

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum… she’s… she’s… The doctors at Torchwood say there’s nothing they can do; she had a massive stroke and her body’s shutting down. They say we need to say our good-byes, but I don’t think I can. Please Santa, all I want for Christmas is my mum… alive.

**love, Rose**

\--ooOoo--

January 21st, 2036

This is the first year ever since we’ve arrived in this universe there was no Vitex New Year’s Gala. Without Mum, it just wouldn’t have been the same. She was such a presence, an indomitable spirit, feisty and irrepressible. It was so hard to see all of that taken away on Christmas Eve: this larger-than-life woman, lying on a cold hospital bed, comatose, buried under tubes and wires (all that was keeping her alive.) She looked so small and vulnerable. So pale. To be honest, I didn’t even know if there was even anything left of my mum in there.

I’d been meeting with Dad when Tony called, frantic. He, Noah, Wilf, and Mum had been baking Christmas biscuits when Mum had suddenly collapsed. My mind was racing, and it was taking everything I had just to keep from falling completely to pieces. The TARDIS! Wilf has been practicing piloting the TARDIS solo (short, local trips only; no time travel!) There was no way he would have passed up an opportunity to fly to the mansion today. I had never been happier that he insisted on learning to pilot her, because right now, she was exactly where she needed to be.

I told Tony to get Mum into the TARDIS, and shut the doors, and to text me when they were ready. Dad and I rushed down to Torchwood Medical and told them to expect a critical patient. As soon as Tony’s text came through, I activated the TARDIS recall on my watch. Wilfred might have been able to make the flight himself, but I figured he was probably freaking out a bit. The recall was a much safer option.

The TARDIS materialized, Wilfred flung the doors open, and a medical team rushed in with a gurney. Mum was whisked into the nearest operating room within seconds. Tony staggered out the TARDIS doors behind them with Noah, looking shell-shocked. What a horrific first Christmas for the newly-weds. He clung to Noah’s hand like it was a life-line. I knew how he felt. My hand felt so empty without the Doctor holding it.

But he was in my mind, touching our bond. I could feel his anxiety brewing, his worry, as he rushed toward Torchwood, driving as fast as traffic would allow. I called Hope and Charlie, and told them we’d be by to get them just as soon as we could. Therin was on his way too. We’d all be here soon.

Dad stood alone by the operating room door, his face set and grim as he peered through the window at the doctors working feverishly to save my mum. He glanced down at me as I stepped toward him, and leaned against his shoulder. I can’t tell you how much it meant to actually have a Dad right at this moment, and a brother; people who for the first twenty years of my life could never have existed for me or my mum. He put his arm around me and pressed a kiss to my head, and I felt his strength surround me. I tried to offer the same to him.

The Doctor came rushing in, skidding to a stop beside me, just as Martha (Martha Jones is a physician in this universe as well, one of Torchwood’s finest) came out to deliver the news: Mum was dying and we needed to say good-bye. Her words were met with stunned silence as we all gathered our thoughts.

Suddenly the Doctor exploded. “NO-no-no-no! NO!” He barged past Martha, into the operating room. He snatched my mum’s chart from one of the nurses, read it over, and chucked it aside. As we all pushed into the room, he paced by the end of Mum’s bed, tugging at his hair and muttering, occasionally glancing over at Mum’s still body. “C’mon! Think. Think Think!”

He finally stopped, and I could feel his grim determination over the bond. Spinning around, he ran to the operating room door. “I’ll be back,” he spoke directly to Mum. “Stay right there. Don’t leave. Don’t you dare! Wilfred, come with me.” And he and our son disappeared back into the waiting room, leaving the rest of us in a state of confusion.

Dad and Tony just looked at me for an explanation. “He has a plan…” What more could I offer. It’s all I knew.

Dad, Tony, and me moved to the hospital bed where Mum lay. Dad took her hand, kissed her forehead. Tony took the other hand. Noah stood awkwardly to the side, until Dad beckoned him over. “You’re family, now, son. She loves you. She’d want you here.”

I just stood at the end of the bed, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest, horribly aware of the rhythmic, hissing sound of the machine that made it possible. I felt numb, knowing it would stop as soon as she came off life support. And then the sound of hope… the TARDIS, dematerializing in the next room, and seconds later, rematerializing around us perfectly, so that we appeared in the TARDIS infirmary, including all of the machinery hooked up to Mum, and one stunned nurse.

The Doctor burst in from the console room. “Now that, _that_ was some spectacular driving! Oh, yes!”

My dad, Tony, and Noah all stepped back from the hospital bed, as the Doctor made his way to Mum’s side. The nurse bristled at him, admonishing him. “You can’t do this!”

He turned his fierce eyes on her. “But I just did. And right now, I am the only hope for Jackie Tyler. You lot have already given up on her. But I will not. Do you hear me? _I will not_.” The nurse just nodded, stunned, and backed down.

The Doctor turned his attention on my mum. He invited me closer, as he placed his fingers against my mum’s temples. I leaned over and placed one of my hands over his, lacing our fingers. Suddenly, I could sense his telepathic contact with my mum’s mind, and using our bond, I merged with him, but I just stayed hovering in the background, not wanting to interfere.

It was dark and cold in her mind, but the Doctor sought out the glimmer of light hidden deep inside, and as he touched it, we were surrounded by the presence of Jackie Tyler, weak and stubborn, afraid, but very much alive. “What the hell are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“Do you trust me?” the Doctor said.

“Blimey! That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one!”

“Jackie! There’s no time! You’re in danger. I need you to trust me.”

“Oh, what is it this time, then? Bog monsters? Those cyber-whatsits?”

“No, you; it’s your own body, this time. I can help, but I need you to trust me…”

“Well, when you put it like that… I suppose I’ll have to. But if I end up like one of those Cyber-thingies, I’m gonna kill you. Oh, is that you there, Rose?”

I gasped, I wasn’t sure she’d even know I was there. This might be my last chance to tell her…“Yeah, it’s me, Mum. I love you. We all do.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now c’mon then, ya plum,” she addressed the Doctor. “I trust you. Get on with whatever it is you’re going to do.”

He gently nudged me out of my mum’s mind, and I watched from his perspective as he gathered her consciousness, protecting it, shielding it from further harm, bolstering it with some of his own mental energy (I offered mine as well, as much as he could safely use.)

When we returned to the physical world, confident that Mum’s mind was safe for the time being, he turned to hug me. All his love and concern for Mum rushed through our bond, and I felt his tears for her against my cheek. With their albeit (mostly) friendly rivalry, it was easy to forget how much Mum’s acceptance of him meant to him; how she never stopped trying to welcome him into the family, even when he wore leather and claimed to have a strong aversion to domestics; and how she had unstintingly supported him in some of his darkest moments. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m sure my love for the Doctor grew even more that day.

\--ooOoo--

Ever since my run-in with a Sontaran disruptor, the Doctor has been gathering all kinds of powerful medical equipment from all over time and space. After eight years, he has amassed quite a collection, and he was prepared to put anything and everything to good use if necessary to help Mum. Now that her mind was sealed off, safe from degrading as her body failed, the Doctor told me he now had time to think about how to best to help her. So, the truth of the matter was, he had never really had a plan, as he had implied. He had kept that little tidbit from me, and I wasn’t thrilled.

“Not precisely… no, but now she has a fighting chance. Those… those _doctors”_ he practically spat the word, “(even Martha) they gave up on her. _I_ won’t give up!”

I knew that and told him so. Besides, as he pointed out, when did he ever really have a plan? He just made things up as he went along. That was his m.o. and it wasn’t likely to change now. I just kissed him, and we clung to each other for a minute, a little bit of peace in the middle of a truly awful day.

When we pulled away, back to reality, he told me the first thing he needed to do was get Mum off that “primitive life support” and onto the system he had on the TARDIS.

We needed to collect Hope and Charlie too, I reminded him, as they had been unable to get home for Christmas this year. They would be so worried, not being able to be with us at a time like this.

“I need to stabilize Jackie’s life support first, get her transferred over. Then we can get the girls.” He asked me to call in Martha, and a few of the nurses to come and assist him. “After all, they’ll need to learn how this system operates. I think I’ll see if I can get my hands on another one for Torchwood.”

\--ooOoo--

It took longer than expected to move Mum into the Doctor’s stasis tank. It was a huge, transparent vat of some kind of bubbling turquoise liquid that the Doctor said promoted healing. The patient was completely immersed. Breathing was unnecessary; the liquid performed all the necessary gas exchange. Mum’s heart was still kept beating artificially, but as I understood it, the device continually monitored her autonomic body functions. As soon as her body was able to take over for itself, the device relinquished control. All in all, it was much less invasive than traditional human methods of life support and her body was continually exposed to the healing bath.

The worst thing about the tank was that Mum’s modesty was completely compromised. For maximum effectiveness, she had to be completely starkers in there. I couldn’t help thinking that if she ever got out of this, she would have a lot to say about that! Though, whether she got out of this at all was still extremely uncertain. The tank was simply an advanced means of life support; it didn’t heal her brain injury. Her consciousness, the essence of who she was, was protected deep in her brain, far from the injured sites, but for her to return as a fully functional person, her neural pathways would need to be restored to be able to support higher brain functions again. Her injury was extremely severe. I just hoped my brilliant husband could come up with a solution.

Needless to say, Hope had become impatient, waiting for us to pick her up, and managed to hitch a ride home. Now you would think, separated not just by space but time too, this would be next to impossible without the TARDIS. You’d probably be right. But Javic Thane was a newly minted Time Agent, and more than eager to show off his shiny, new vortex manipulator. He brought both Hope and his brother Gray (for moral support for Hope…) through the vortex to land directly outside the TARDIS doors.

Oh. My. God! What a bloody uproar _that_ caused. With his emotions already frayed with worrying about Mum, the Doctor was furious. He’d never quite been able to get past his “Captain envy” of Jack Harkness, and now, he was allowing that resentment to affect the way he treated Javic Thane.

“Dad,” Hope grabbed his hand turning him away from Javic, and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek (she still knew how to keep him wound around that finger of hers), “don’t worry. It was very unpleasant, travelling that way (no offense, Javic).”

“Oh, none taken, Hopie.” He winked at her, earning him a growl from the Doctor.

Hope continued making it up to her Dad. “I think I’ll be sticking to the TARDIS from now on.”

The Doctor huffed.

“But now, I really want to see Gran. How’s is she? Has there been any change?”

That did it. The Doctor immediately whisked her off into the TARDIS to see her Gran and was probably hoping to get her advice for treatment, seeking some insight he had overlooked. I knew well enough not to follow. They would be talking circles around me and would get more done without having to explain things to me.

I turned, instead, to Javic. It was natural to fall into a familiar banter with him. I guess having known his counterpart so well made it easy. His brother, Gray, was much quieter and stood off to the side. I welcomed him, telling him how much I appreciated him being there to support Hope. Javic, the spitting image of Jack, was a handsome man and he knew it. But his younger brother was every bit his equal in that regard, though clearly much more reserved about flaunting it. There again, I think just about anyone would be much more reserved about flaunting their good looks than Jack Harkness (or his parallel self) was. I wondered to myself if Gray had ever existed in the Prime universe. Close as the Doctor and I were with Jack, he had never revealed much about his past unless it involved sensational sexual exploits and/or displays of public nudity.

I was pleased that Hope and Javic had kept in touch. I asked Gray if he had met Hope through his brother. Yes and no, was the response. It turns out that Gray was also a medical student at the same school as Hope, and had seen her in several of his classes. He was a couple of years older than her, but in the same academic year. He had wanted to meet her but had been too nervous to approach her. (He blushed furiously when he told me this, and I just had to smile.) Javic had, in fact, introduced them properly.

It seemed my baby girl had a boyfriend.

“Gray, your knowledge would probably be very helpful to the Doctor too. Why don’t you go on into the TARDIS and help out. I’m sure Hope would love to introduce you to the Doctor… her father.”

The poor young man looked like he might vomit, but I had the notion the Doctor would quite like him. “In that little box, there?”

“Gray… let me introduce you to transdimensional technology. Javic?”

“Oh, you bet? And let me guess, this is the way Hope manages to grow up in the 21st Century but go to school in the 51st.”

Suddenly my blood ran cold. I had allowed myself to become sentimental toward this man because of who he looked like. I really knew nothing about him. He was a Time Agent. He could cause all kinds of trouble for us, having a time ship. In a flash, my Torchwood training came back to me and I had him pinned by his throat against the nearest wall.

“Not that I don’t like it a little rough sometimes, sweetheart, but−”

I pressed my arm harder against his throat, effectively shutting him up. “You will listen to me. I do not trust the Time Agency, and right now, I’m finding it bloody hard to trust you. I do not want them interfering in our lives. Do you hear me? If you so much as breathe a word to them about anything you have seen here today, anything you know about Hope’s origins, you won’t even know what the hell hit you. Don’t ever mess with my family. This is your only warning.” I released him.

“Fuck, lady. What the hell?”

“Do I need to clarify?”

“No. No. You have my word. Trust me. I’m not telling those yahoos anything. I never would have, even without your threats. I’m just working for them because I like to travel. I mean travelling in time! The universe at my fingertips! Literally. Can you imagine?”

“Yeah, I think I can…”

“Course you can. Silly me. But seriously, Rose, I promise, I would never tell. Never.”

“Why?”

“How should I know? It’s just the way I feel. For some reason, I’m drawn to you. All of you. I can’t explain it, but it’s like you’re… family. I couldn’t betray you even if I wanted to. I’ll tell you one thing, though: I don’t need the big bad wolf breathing down my neck, anymore”

Those two words: Bad Wolf. That was all the confirmation I needed. He could be trusted. One day, I might even tell him about the Prime Universe and his parallel self who was one of my dearest friends, but for now it was enough to become friends with this version of the man.

I escorted him and Gray (who was now completely terrified of me) through the TARDIS doors, to show them around. Once they had gotten over the fact that it was bigger inside than out, I sent Gray off to work with the Doctor and Hope in the medical lab down the hall, and introduced Javic to the console room.

“Want to see her fly?”

“Do I ever!”

“I need to go pick up my other daughter, Charlie. She’ll be going off her trolley with worry. It’s been hours.”

I called Wilfred and Therin in to help me pilot, and made sure Dad was aboard. I didn’t think he would have liked it if I had taken off without him in the TARDIS with Mum stuck in the stasis tank. But as it was, him, Tony, and Noah were all sitting comfortably in guest quarters the TARDIS had provided right next to the infirmary.

We launched and landed as smoothly as possible to minimize the jostling to Mum’s stasis tank, and it  was only a few minutes later that Charlie came bursting in through the TARDIS doors and into my arms, desperate for news of her Gran, and wanting to help in any way she could.

I felt so much better now, knowing my whole family was here. When we all worked together, I always got the feeling there was nothing we couldn’t do.

\--ooOoo--

Christmas day came and went unnoticed by any of us. The Doctor, Hope, and Gray had come up with a possible plan to heal Mum’s brain: medical nanobots. Charlie and Wilfred were more than enthusiastic about helping out constructing the little devices: microscopic robots that would stimulate growth and regeneration in Mum’s brain. They would clear the damaged brain matter away and guide the development of new tissue.

I asked the Doctor if these were anything like the nanogenes we’d encountered when we’d first met Jack back in the Prime Universe. The answer, as expected, was “No, not exactly.” The nanogenes affected the genetics of an organism; our nanobots affected the tissue in a more direct, physical way. The process would take a good deal longer, too.

Of course, then I asked if we couldn’t just track down some Chula ships and get a hold of some nanogenes and heal Mum that way. But apparently, the Doctor had spoken to Javic about it, and while the Chula were capable of time travel in this universe, they had never developed the nanogene technology. Also, unfortunately, the technology was well beyond the Doctor’s capabilities. It would take decades of research before he could replicate nanogenes. Neither Mum nor the Doctor, in his human body, had that long to wait. The nanobots, however, could be up and running within a few days.

\--ooOoo--

Santa, it’s nearly a month later now. The nanobots have been working tirelessly all this time, and about a week ago, over a few days, Mum was released from the stasis tank (it’s a very slow, gradual process.) After he was sure her body was functioning on its own, the Doctor connected telepathically with Mum again, releasing her mind from its safe haven. He explained that integration of her consciousness would also take a few days, as her brain adapted and new synaptic pathways formed.

She opened her eyes today. Dad was sitting with her at the time, and was beaming from ear to ear when we all rushed in to see Mum. There she was sitting up in bed, with rosy cheeks and eyes dancing, so different from the sight of her not even a month ago, pale and dying in front of me.

I expected she would be extremely pleased with the outcome, once she got over missing Christmas and the New Year’s Gala. After all, her time in the stasis tank had provided many health benefits, including losing at least a stone in weight, and the Doctor said, probably even extending her life by several years.

Her eyes fell on the Doctor. “Oh, and there’s himself, standing there beaming away. C’mere, you plum.”

I stroked his back, pushing him forward. He approached her slowly. Suddenly, her arm shot out and grabbed his hand, and she yanked him toward her. He gave a little “ooof” of shock when he found himself getting several Jackie Tyler trademark, big wet kisses all over his cheeks.

“I hear you saved me, Doctor. You never gave up until you found a way to save me.”

“Weeeell…”

“Thank-you, love.” He bent over so she could wrap her arms around him, and over our bond, I felt his love for her fill him.

Santa, all my Christmas wishes have come true… just a little late. I hope your Christmas was safe and healthy and filled with love, this year.  And I’m sorry _I’m_ a bit late getting this letter away…

Love to everyone, **Rose**


	21. December 24, 2036 (Prompt: Hot Chocolate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Rose is feeling melancholy about having an empty nest, and the Doctor suggests a quick trip in the TARDIS for hot chocolate to cheer her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all spent the last week or so with days full of peace, joy, and love. 
> 
> Today’s chapter references an earlier story of mine,[The Cupid’s Arrow, revised edition](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9706457/chapters/21901373).
> 
> To my betas, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula, my endless gratitude. <3<3
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Hot Chocolate_.

* * *

December 24th, 2036

**Dear Father Christmas,**

It just doesn’t feel like Christmas this year. The girls are off studying (that’s nothing new), but Wilfred has left us too. He’s decided to do a bit of travelling on his own this year, a world tour. He’s a restless soul, he is, not a scholarly type like his sisters (they can buckle down and study when they need to). No, Wilf’s much more like his Dad, always needing to be on the move. He’s spending Christmas on a beach in Australia, surfing and eating shrimp from the barbie, and generally having a good ol’ time.

So, I guess that makes me and the Doctor official “empty nesters”, yeah?

Now I know how mum felt all those years ago, when I left to travel in the TARDIS. She must have been so lonely. At least I have my Doctor to keep me company; she had no one. And, at the time, I never gave it a passing thought how alone and worried she must have been… just the way my babies probably don’t think about me.

Look at me, blubbing away. Just as well I came out here to the treehouse. The Doctor would have been worried to see me cry. It’s been happening a lot recently. I’ll have to face the music soon enough, though. I can feel his concern, but at least he knows I’m safe, and he understands when I feel like I need some time to myself (well apart from Snowflake: she’s curled in my lap. _You’re not leaving your mum, are you, darling?)_

It’s a little chilly out here, to be honest, but being up in the treehouse makes me feel so much closer to the kids. So many memories here, and besides the view is unparalleled! The sky is so clear tonight, and the view from here is spectacular, though I can’t see many of the stars right now; the moon is directly overhead, in its last quarter but still so bright it’s hard to see anything else. But it is a gorgeous thing all on its own.

I’m always in awe of the fact that I can actually make out some of the Lunar colonies. So much has changed in the last few years, and Torchwood has been at the centre of it all. The Doctor contributed his extensive knowledge about space bases (after all, he’s run through so many in his lifetime!) and supervised the design team and the actual installation. It never gets old, witnessing first hand, humans taking those first few steps into space, especially since I know what the future has in store for them (the privileges of being a time traveller.)

The Lunar colonies are actually becoming very well established now (you’ll need to start visiting the moon on Christmas Eve, Santa, if you haven’t already. The first official Lunarians… Selenites… (I dunno… The debate for a proper name is still on. Mum just calls them all Loonies!) were born there early this year. I don’t know how you’ll keep up once humans spread across the universe!)

Of course, Hope has decided to be a part of it all: she has a position as a physician on Lunar Base Shepard lined up for the coming year, once she graduates. She loves the idea of “pioneering” and has her sights set on eventually going on to Mars once proper bases are established there. That’ll be a while though, and thank goodness! The Doctor had a very bad reaction when she mentioned it. I’ve very rarely seen him so bloody frightened: pure fear and dread. He never could explain why, exactly, just that he had a feeling it was a very bad idea and muttered on about fixed points and such for hours afterwards.

But that’s years off. In the meantime, I’m just missing my babies so much. It’s funny how the holidays are the times we tend to miss them most. The rest of the year, since Wilfred went travelling, me and the Doctor (and Snowflake) have been too busy off adventuring in the TARDIS to really dwell on their absence too much. It’s almost like old times, and I mean _really_ old times, back in the Prime Universe: the two of us; lots of running; saving the universe… only a bit slower than we used to (not exactly spring chickens, us!) and with a lot more vacationing in between… and with a cat (something my Prime Universe Doctor would never have entertained!) But now, it’s all so completely brilliant! It’s so good to know we can still make a difference out there in our own little way.

But now, standing still, that’s when it sinks in… the loneliness.

We’re only really here for the Hand in Hand feast, and Mum’s New Year’s Gala, back in full swing this year, now that she’s fully recuperated. It’ll be at least a full week before we’re back running through the stars!

But that doesn’t mean we can’t go for a short trip, does it?

Ah ha! Right on cue, here he comes: My Doctor. He must have felt my itchy feet over the bond, because he’s beaming away and shouting up at me “Where to, Rose Tyler?”

I guess I’m off on another great adventure… even if it’s just for a few hours!

\--ooOoo--

We’re back, Santa! Made it in just in time for me to finish my letter to you… it’s almost midnight!

So, I was shivering when we set off, and the Doctor decided we should go somewhere for hot chocolate. Who am I to argue with that? Years ago, he’d discovered there was a Planet Valentine in this universe. We’d been to the one in the Prime Universe, back when he was still wearing leather ( _that_ was an adventure and a half!) and the Doctor had proclaimed one of the cafés there ( _The Cupid’s Arrow_ ) had the best chocolate treats anywhere in the universe, hands down. We’d yet to properly visit this universe’s version and agreed it was finally time to discover if it was up to scratch. Sure enough, both the planet and _The Cupid’s Arrow_ were just as tacky and over-the-top as I remember, and the hot chocolate was just as gorgeous.

I briefly wondered why we had never come here before (the kids would have had a blast!) but as we were seated at our table, and it ascended on its anti-grav platform through showers of confetti, I looked around me at all the other patrons, and all the reasons why this was _not_ a “family” adventure came rushing back to me. I could feel my cheeks flushing in embarrassment and, I admit, a bit of arousal. This was indeed the planet of love, and many of the customers of _The Cupid’s Arrow_ were very, very, very… sexually uninhibited! The Doctor, hearing my thoughts very clearly, waggled his eyebrows at me and gave me a cheeky wink.

Laughing and very glad it was just the two of us, we placed our orders on the touch screen. I _should_ mention, our family is very particular about how we take our hot chocolate. Me, Charlie, and Wilfred all prefer loads of miniature marshmallows, but the Doctor and Hope prefer whipped cream with chocolate curls. And we always get into a huge debate about which way is best, the whole family, all five of us… together. So, of course, while we waited for our cocoa to arrive, me and the Doctor couldn’t resist starting in on the familiar argument. But it just wasn’t the same without our three not-so-little trouble-makers contributing their two pennies worth, and it didn’t take long before I was crying again.

Blimey, it doesn’t take much to set me off these days. Mum thinks it’s an early sign of menopause (most of my uterus may be gone, but the doctors managed to save my ovaries, so she may very well be right. I’m about the right age for it: forty-seven.) Poor Doctor, he has a loooong few years ahead of him with menopausal-me. And he’s just so lovely and sweet, holding me when I need it, and letting me know how loved I am (because it’s easy to forget when I get into a state like this.)

It wasn’t long before the sparkly, fuchsia Droid-waiter appeared with our hot chocolates. It fluttered its long lashes at me, its heart-shaped deely-bopper eyes bobbing slowly as it expressed concern for my tears. It was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but smile and thank it for asking after me. After it flew away, me and the Doctor broke into gales of laughter, again. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs. “Better?”

Oh, I felt so much better, and apologized for being such a nutter.

He grinned at me, took a swig of his chocolate, and with a full, whipped cream mustache, leaned in and gave me a big, sloppy, creamy kiss. “Now you look like a nutter too!”

I gave him a (loving) shove and told him he looked like one, as well.

“Oh, yes!”

And, oh Santa! I made a startling discovery as I licked the cream from my lips (and then from his.) I discovered that I really, really liked hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate curls, and he discovered that he enjoyed marshmallows, especially the little gooey bits that stuck to the edges of my mouth. So we decided on an exchange… and then, well… we might, possibly have got rather enthusiastically involved in the uninhibited spirit of Planet Valentine. I even forgot about my children for a little while there…  But I did remember to pick up some chocolatey treats for them and my mum before we left.

I hope I’m not on your naughty list, now…

Happy Christmas, Santa. I bet you and Mrs. Claus would enjoy the Peppermint Hot Chocolate at _The Cupid’s Arrow._ It’s so good! Love to both of you, the elves, and the reindeer too!

**Rose**


	22. 24th December, 2037 (Prompt: Lights)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as Rose loves her Doctor, sometimes his fears, preconceptions, and prejudices result in a stubborn and obstinate attitude, but when Wilfred presents him with an extraordinary Christmas gift, the Doctor is given the chance to face his greatest fear head-on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This chapter turned out to be super loooooong. I played around quite a bit with the concepts of Gallifrey and TARDISes. I tried to do some research, and develop a world that made sense given the circumstances I’ve envisioned for this universe. In the end, it is my (only partially informed) imagination that is to blame… for better or for worse. I hope you like where my muse took me. 
> 
> ***Please be warned: early on in the chapter there is a scene of a near-drowning. Everyone turns out fine, but just in case of triggers...
> 
> To my betas, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula: you talked through my visions and concepts with me at length and helped me flesh them out, and you were always there when I called on you in a panic. I hope we managed to create something unique and magical, and that I was able to do it justice. I can’t thank you enough, my dear friends, for your creativity, talent, and patience.
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The one I’m using today is _Lights_.

* * *

December 24th, 2037

 **Dear Father Christmas** ,

What a year! It’s been equal parts frustrating and wonderful! And all because my bloody, thick-headed, obstinate, lovable idiot has a lot of trouble getting past his long-standing fears, preconceptions, and prejudices.

It didn’t start out so bad. Me and the Doctor, in the TARDIS (with Snowflake), just as it should be. We’ve had so many brilliant adventures. We did some ambassadorial jobs for Torchwood, but mostly, it’s just been us flying by the seats of our pants all through time and space, finding trouble and doing our best to fix it wherever we go!

We have company sometimes, though. Hope and Gray are settling into their positions on Lunar Base Shepard, and loving it (no real surprise that Gray decided to get a position there, too.) But on their days off, they sometimes join us on our jaunts in the TARDIS. Gray’s quickly learned the ropes. He’s even picked up a few words of Gallifreyan from listening to the Doctor and Hope natter on. _I_ was certainly impressed, even if the Doctor wasn’t. I’ve tried for years to speak and write it. The Doctor started teaching me back in the Prime Universe, and I love the songs; sing them all the time (my own special remixes which irk the Doctor no end!) But I’ve never been fluent. Not properly. The kids all speak it though. The Doctor spoke Gallifreyan to each of them whilst they were still in the womb, and he kept on with it after they were born. He’s so proud of them, and I can feel him positively gushing contentment and joy over our bond, all because he’s able to communicate with his children (and, of course, listen to his wife sing!) in his native language.

But, he didn’t feel that way toward Gray at first, even when the poor boy had just spoken a full sentence in Gallifreyan and managed to optimize some TARDIS manifold or other. Nope! That’s when protective-Dad syndrome kicked in with a vengeance, and all he could think about was “Jack Harkness’ brother” corrupting his daughter. Now admittedly, as much as he’s become a dear friend, Javic Thane is every bit as erm… _sexually unrestrained_ as his counterpart in the Prime Universe. But I have to say, his brother is a very different creature: not at all a flirt (in fact, a bit too serious if I was to find any faults) and any idiot (with the exception of the Biggest Idiot of All…) could see that he’s utterly devoted to Hope. Devoted!

We all just had to ride out Oncoming Daddy-Storm for a few months until we visited Prebvok X-wani. That’s where a certain dafter-on-the-inside mindset had a complete makeover! Hope had requested we go there to collect certain medicinal herbs that grow at the edges of the swamps in the rainy season. I had stayed in the TARDIS because, bloody hell, the rain was bucketing down and it was flipping cold (kinda like Prime-London winters but with more swamps), and I figured I could stay warm and dry and make a nice hot stew for the intrepid adventurers. Gray had happily joined Hope, and so of course the Doctor just had to tag along as well. Blimey, I could feel his possessiveness absolutely bristling in my mind.

Anyway, not half an hour later, our bond went on full Mauve alert: pure panic from the Doctor. It was an agonizing 8.35 minutes (when you’re bonded to someone with time sense it rubs off on you after a while) before the calming green of relief started to trickle through my mind, and at least another ten before they all burst back through the TARDIS doors, covered in muck, and Gray carrying Hope bridal style, following the Doctor into the infirmary.

After making sure Hope’s airway was clear and after doing some dermal regeneration on her ankle, the Doctor looked at Gray and his gratitude practically glowed. He held out his hand to Gray to shake, but ended up pulling him into a full-on Doctor-hug.

I finally heard the whole story as we all sat eating supper in front of the fire, after everyone had cleaned up and changed into cosy jimjams. Hope had jogged on ahead, looking for her herbs, and had tripped on a vine across the path, twisting her ankle, and sending her headfirst into the swamp. It had been a sort of quicksandy material and having basically dived in, however unintentionally, she had disappeared below the surface almost instantaneously. The Doctor had had some rope in his pockets ( _never leave home without it, Rose Tyler_ ; and thank God for that!) and without hesitation, Gray had tied it around himself while the Doctor tied the other end to a tree. Gray dove straight in there after Hope. It had taken three separate tries to find her, but he finally latched onto her fingertips and then her arm and then he’d signaled the Doctor to pull them up.

“Just goes to show,” (here goes my Doctor impersonation again), “all you need to get across this universe is a hand to hold… weeell, that and a good length of rope. Good man, Gray! Good man!”  And with that, one bit of the Doctor’s pig-headedness had been swapped for something much more rational.

But, Santa, the year was young… Turns out, this year was ripe with opportunities for the Doctor to dig his heels in and act a bit thick. And, as I’ve come to realize (not for the first time) the apple sometimes doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Here’s an example…

So, Hope and Gray weren’t the only ones who travelled with us from time to time. Wilfred was around quite a bit. Javic started to drop by on a regular basis, usually timing it to skive a few hours off work here and there, and filling our days with laughter at his tall tales of his (usually naked) adventures with the Time Agency.

Therin was also a regular visitor, especially over the summer before he started graduate school, and he never failed to be there if he knew Charlie was visiting. The poor baby; he wore his heart on his sleeve, and Charlie (Daddy’s little girl in so many ways for all that she looked like me) was completely oblivious. She sometimes flirted and held his hand, but she never once let on that Therin was anything more to her than her best mate. And I don’t think she had any clue he felt any differently. Oblivious! And oh, Santa, my heart broke for that boy. I knew everything he was feeling: desperate for more but never truly believing their friendship could ever develop into romance, and yet just so pathetically grateful to be a tiny speck of importance in Charlie’s brilliant, manic mind.

I tried to hide my thoughts about Therin and Charlie from the Doctor. I love that man more than life itself, and I didn’t want him feeling guilty about something that had happened ages ago, but those thoughts were so interwoven with other thoughts, it was difficult to keep them all separated and contained.

“You were never just a speck of anything, Rose Tyler.”

He’d caught me completely by surprise as I watched Charlie, Therin, and Wilfred from my place on the picnic blanket as they all tried out the new Wing-Gliders Charlie had developed. I’d been caught out and felt my face burning. Somehow I managed to tear my eyes from the kids cavorting in the sky overhead to look at my husband. His eyes were so sad, Santa.

“And you were never in any way pathetic.”

I knew I had to be honest and opened my thoughts to him, sharing all those old insecurities. I’d often wondered, especially in recent years now that my hair is peppered with grey, how it would have worked out had the Metacrisis never happened and I’d stayed on with the Time Lord Doctor. Would he ever have been able to slow down for me? Would he have eventually drawn away, unable to bear to watch me wither? Would he have resented me? Would he have dropped me off for my safety, for his sanity?

“I always loved you. I would have cherished every moment with you. I’d gotten past all of that awkwardness, but then _I_ came along… and when Pete’s World presented itself, it was so easy to… weeell…”

He filled my thoughts with his love for me, past and present, and I snuggled against him. He was an idiot sometimes, but he was my very own idiot. It seemed, however, he’d passed the idiot gene on to Charlie.

“She’ll be all right.” He’d nodded at Charlie.

“Not her I’m worried about, is it? She doesn’t understand how she affects those around her. Once you have a taste of that… charisma, that allure, you can’t ever go back. Trust me.”

He just chuckled at me and booped my nose. “Oh, _I know_ , my precious girl.”

“Shut up…”

“Now Wilfred… that’s who _I’m_ concerned about. There’s something going on with him, I just don’t know what.”

The Doctor was quite right. There _was_ something Wilfred was keeping from us. I’d thought so too. He’d always been a bit secretive, happy to quietly puzzle things out, but he also loved a great adventure and was never happy to be sitting still for too long. Now that he was out of our daily lives, travelling the world, it was difficult to figure out just what he was up to. Until we did, all we could do was keep our ears to the ground and wait to see what happened.

\--ooOoo--

Santa, over the years, we’ve travelled to many wonderful places and the adventures never seemed to end, whether we were having a quiet day to ourselves or whether we had our entire extended family along for the ride. But, in all that time, there was one place the Doctor refused to even entertain trying to visit: Gallifrey. He wouldn’t even speak of it. To be quite honest, in all our travels, on any of our adventures, the name never even came up in rumours and stories, and for all we knew, it didn’t exist in this universe.

Whether it did or not, was irrelevant. The subject was taboo. I knew it, and the kids all knew it, so I nearly fainted when Wilfred brought it up at supper one day, a few months ago.

He’d been travelling with us for several weeks, tinkering in his own little workshop and learning as much as he could about the workings of the TARDIS, quantum mechanics, relativity, and the structure of space-time. He was most definitely up to something, but what it was, we still had been unable to determine.  At least he was home with us for the time being.

Javic had dropped ‘round for a visit and was staying for supper that day. Wilfred always really enjoyed Javic’s company, peppering him with questions about time travel and his vortex manipulator. But none of us were prepared for the question that carelessly slipped out just as we were starting on our pudding.

“Hey, Javic, just a thought…” (oh, so casual-like) “…have you ever heard of a planet called Gallifrey on any of your travels?”

I literally felt faint, though it was probably as much to do with the Doctor’s instant panic and anger hammering over our bond as it was the shock of the subject matter.

Javic, not ever having been briefed on our _planet-who-shall-not-be-named_ situation, of course answered in his usual laid-back way, totally missing the electric mood around the table. “Can’t say as I have… but I could do some invest−”

Oh. My. God, Santa! The Doctor completely lost his trolley. Exploded it, more like. Pounded on the table; shouted; completely lost it! The Oncoming Supernova! He was properly frightening, demanding that Javic not do any investigating and that if he heard about anything to the contrary…

Well, you get the idea: threats were made.

I was trying to reach him over the bond, but the force of his emotions was preventing me from making contact. All I could do was keep trying and hope he would calm down, but then he turned on Wilfred, raging like something possessed. And my poor, stupid baby, despite being nearly as tall as his dad and sporting some wispy facial hair, suddenly seemed very small and vulnerable, you know? He took off to his room in a panic and slammed the door.

The Doctor’s mental walls finally crashed into place (saving me from the psychic fallout, thank God! My head was pounding with the mental barrage I’d been enduring!) and _he_ stomped off into the bowels of the TARDIS. Like father, like son.

“Well, it’s been a slice,” Javic broke the silence, “but I think that’s my cue to vamoose.”

I was suddenly babbling and apologizing for the Doctor’s outburst and for not warning Javic beforehand, assuring him that it was a sensitive subject and things would smooth over in no time. (I hoped I was telling the truth.)

He gave me a hug. “I get it. Don’t worry, Rosie. I should be getting back to work anyway. I’ll check back in in a few weeks. You mind dropping me at these coordinates?” He showed me the display on his vortex manipulator.

I made him promise it was somewhere safe and told him to enter them himself. A few seconds later, he was stepping out the TARDIS doors onto a rowdy, seedy street. “Perfect!”

“You call this safe?”

“I call _this_ a good time! Best hypervodka in the universe right through those doors, not to mention the servers…” He gave me a cheeky wink. “A bit of a pick-me-up before I head back to my current assignment.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll just bet you get picked up!”  I waved goodbye, and heard him calling out, “That’s the plan!” just as I was closing the TARDIS doors. I immediately sent us back into the Vortex.

\--ooOoo--

I was furious at both my boys. Wilfred… well I don’t know what had gotten into his head, but he knew the rule, blatantly broken it, and had paid for it. The Doctor though… I was going to give _that_ one a piece of my mind, treating friends and family like that. This situation had gone too far. Absolutely ridiculous! It was time we had a proper talk about Gallifrey. And to be honest, I was gutted he felt he couldn’t confide in me and trust me. I mean, he’d been completely excluding me on this for years… forever!

I decided to clear away the dishes, giving my lads a bit of space before I went to talk to them, and giving myself some time to work things out in my mind. Wilfred was brooding in his room, head buried in some gadgets on his desk. I didn’t say much to him. He knew why he was in trouble; no need to add salt to his wounds. So, I just gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek and assured him that his father still loved him very much. I did quietly suggest he apologize.

I found the Doctor much later. The great plonker was hiding, faffing about deep in the workings of the TARDIS, among the mysterious glowing orbs and curtains of cables that dangled from the branches of the beautiful coral tree. I couldn’t imagine anything really needed repaired; he was likely just skulking. Anyroad, he never bothered to look up when I came in, just offered a gruff, “What do you want?”

“Oi!” I was stunned, and I hope I sounded as pissed off as I really was. “You don’t get to speak to me like that! I deserve better. Me and Javic… and Wilfred.”

“Wilf was out of−”

Oh, he was _not_ going there! I wouldn’t let him. “He’s seventeen years old, for God’s sake! He’s curious about his heritage… _your_ heritage. Don’t you dare put your hang-ups on _his_ shoulders. You had no right to treat him like that!”

He growled at me. (I had to bite my tongue, Santa. He actually growled.) Then he muttered something about how I didn’t know anything about it. (Seriously? And whose fault was that?)

“Time you filled me in then, yeah?” I held my temper. It took every ounce of control I could muster, but I did it. I told him to meet me in the library in ten minutes, and to leave his attitude behind. So I walked out, and went to make us a cuppa and a couple of plates of the pudding we’d never managed to get to because of his tantrum. I reckoned he’d be much more approachable with loads of good ol’ free radicals, tannins, and a good dose of sugar in his system.

I hope you don’t think I was just being flippant or insensitive. I really wasn’t. I won’t say I completely understood _why_ this affected him so deeply; he’d refused to speak about it for so long so there was no way to know for sure. But I know that man, and I had my suspicions. What was clear was that he needed to talk about this. It wasn’t healthy or safe for him to have kept all of this bottled up inside for so long. I love him so much. I’m his wife, his bondmate: I shouldn’t have had to stage an intervention for him to speak to me about this, and yet, there I was, doing just that.

\--ooOoo--

Just over an hour later, he’d finally collapsed into sleep. We were sitting in front of the fire; me with my toes stretched toward the flames and my back against the sofa, and him curled into a foetal position next to me with his head cradled in my lap. I ran my fingers through the soft, lush mess of his hair, the rich brown shot through with wild sparks of silver. The stain of tears on his cheeks darkened his freckles, and I brushed a remaining droplet from the corner of his eye. He was so beautiful and vulnerable… my precious man.

He’d come into the library as I’d requested, looking all guilty and not meeting my eyes. He looked almost physically ill, with his fringe hanging over his pale face. I stood to meet him, and he threw his arms around me, clutching to me as though I might disappear. He was in a right state, sobbing and apologizing, and all I could do was hold him. Eventually, I drew him over to the sofa and got some hot tea into him, and gradually he became more coherent.

He’d never gotten over the Time War. Of course he hadn’t. How could anyone ever accept the fact that they had to destroy billions of lives, including all their own people, even if it was for the greater good, the salvation of the universe? Even after all these years, there were still nights when he would awake drenched in sweat, crying out in despair, after something during the day had triggered the memories to resurface. He told me he’d always felt at peace with me holding him, and so that’s what I would do in those times, for as long as he needed me.

Now in this universe, still unable to face the scars of his past, he was running from what-ifs and maybes. “I can’t sense the Time Lords,” he told me, clutching at his temples. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not there, it just means… I can’t sense them. Different universe of origin; not a full Time Lord… loads of factors. Maybe I just don’t want to sense them.”

What it all came down to was the Doctor did not cope well with loss, he never had, and just the thought of getting his hopes up only to have them shattered again was unbearable. He’d already seen too much sorrow associated with that planet: friends and family lost forever; memories and emotions, darkness, rage, and guilt, kept under lock and key deep in a fortress in his mind.

He couldn’t stomach the idea that the ruins of Gallifrey might be out there somewhere, the remnants of another Time War where everyone had perished, history unfolding the same way as it had in the Prime Universe. But equally, he admitted, he was terrified the Time Lords were actually alive and thriving, lording it over the rest of the universe, power misused through anger and pretensions.

At one point during our talk he’d snatched my hand in his and held my gaze. We’d moved to the floor by that time to be closer to the fire, hoping to find comfort in its warmth. “If the Time Lords are alive,” he confessed to me, tears pouring over his cheeks, “there’s a possibility there could be transdimensional travel again. You could… you could… maybe you’d want to… to go back to _him_. Me. Him, now. Different experiences. We’ve been different people from the moment I was created. But we started off pretty much the−”

“Stop!” I insisted, ending what was sure to be a long, self-deprecating babble. I locked my eyes on his (I was crying too, a right mess), so he would know how sincere I was. “I’m not going anywhere.” I felt so guilty for not realizing he thought I could ever consider abandoning him.  “Forever. I promised you… I love you, you muppet, and I’m never gonna leave you.”

\--ooOoo--

The Doctor was much more settled after that night. Gallifrey wasn’t exactly on his top ten list of conversation topics, but he no longer flew into a rage at the mere mention of the name. Nightmares woke him often, but I was always there to hold him close to me, and they gradually dwindled away, becoming fewer and less intense as time went on. He apologized to Javic the next time he dropped by, and although things were a bit awkward between him and Wilfred, they were family and loved one another, and any grudges were shoved aside to make room for happier memories.

After another week or so, Wilfred returned to travelling on his own, and although other friends and family joined us on the TARDIS, we didn’t see him again until today when he, quite literally, blinked back into our lives.

We were back home in our little blue house, and I was sitting by the Christmas tree, wrapping gifts, when I felt a strange change in the air pressure near me. There was a whooshing sound, and a distortion in the air. I sensed something… something infinite. _All that is; all that was; all that ever could be._ The words were like a whisper in my mind. A memory? Perhaps…

And then, suddenly, Wilfred stumbled out of the distortion, beaming away like he had just walked through the front door. “Fantastic! Hey, Mum! Happy Christmas!”

“What the bloody hell was that?” The Doctor came thundering down the stairs, sonic drawn, ready to do battle. He stopped short at the sight of Wilfred. “When did you get in?” He didn’t wait for a response before he activated the sonic, whirring it all around the space in front of the Christmas tree.

I managed to stammer out some incoherent response. Then Wilfred piped up: “Hello, Dad. Don’t worry. Jus’ me!”

“What? _What?_ _WHAT?”_ The Doctor swept around Wilfred, sonic humming, then paused to examine his findings. “Local distortions in the Time Vortex… not just _any_ distortions, not randomized. These are specific… programmed. What the hell is _that_ on your wrist?”

My eyes snapped to Wilfred’s wrist where there sat something that looked suspiciously like a Vortex manipulator. Well, that cleared up a few of my questions. Generated a few more… but, yeah, what else could I expect when my child just popped out of the Vortex, directly into our living room.

“Been travelling, me! ‘S a Vortex manipulator.”

The Doctor pinched his nose, collecting himself. As for me, the initial shock of my son suddenly appearing in front of me dissipated rather quickly and I just slipped into my standard _roll-with-it_ mode I usually applied in situations involving my children (and/or husband) doing something, erm… unexpected. “So how long have you been travelling… this way?”

“Since I saw you last, really. It took a little getting used to, travelling without the TARDIS shell to protect me…”

“Riiiight…” (What every mother wants to hear.)

“…but I made some adjustments to my original design…”

“ _Your_ design?” (Definitely our child.)

“Yeah! So, I made adjustments to the shield harmonics and I adapted the Chrononplasm flow regulators ever so slightly, and _bam_! Just like that, a fifty-seven percent increase in stabilization and a one hundred eighty-two percent increase in overall shielding!”

“Impressive…” (I had no idea to be honest, but it sounded pretty good.)

“Sort of, yeah. Aaaand it can transport a mass of up to a tonne now… that’s about six humans, give or take. The design the Time Agency uses can only take three people… and then only in a pinch. _Not_ recommended. I’m hoping to get a patent on my design and sell it to them.”

The Doctor had been uncharacteristically silent throughout this exchange, which boded ill, so I went straight over to him and took his hand in one of mine and stroked his sleeve with the other. I soothed him over our bond, and he glowered at me, knowing exactly what I was trying to do. And it was working!

Wilfred watched our silent exchange, and I could sense the tension growing in him.

_Just hear him out. Nothing we say is going to change anything. He’s smart. And he’s a good kid. And right now, he’s safe. I’d like to keep him that way._

The Doctor grumbled at me, and I just arched my eyebrow at him.

_Nothing’s going to be solved with shouting and driving him away._

This time he huffed out a great sigh. (Victory!)

_He’s so much like you._

_I assume that’s meant to be a compliment._ He nudged me with his shoulder, and threw me a cheeky smirk.

_Always, love._

\--ooOoo--

December 25, 2037

Oh Santa, since Christmas Eve so much has happened! I didn’t get to finish this letter because I’ve been so busy.

After the Doctor had agreed to call a truce with Wilfred, he was full of questions and the two of them disappeared into the Doctor’s workshop to tinker with the Vortex manipulator until it was time for our traditional Christmas Eve supper. Tony and Noah arrived with their arms full of my brand new (adopted) niece, Abby; and Mum, Dad, and Therin dropped by too. Mum couldn’t keep her hands off the baby all night, which gave Abby’s Dads a welcome break by the look of the dark circles under their eyes. (I remember those bittersweet days!) The girls and Gray were set to arrive tomorrow, which meant Charlie was going to be able to kick off the Festive Feast for the first time in quite a few years. We’d have the whole family together for Christmas! It had been so long! Even Javic said he’d try to make it.

I was thrilled!

But Christmas was only going to get better for us this year. Wilfred had a surprise gift for his father, which he wanted to give us once everyone had left after Christmas Eve supper.

He bustled us onto the TARDIS. He’d offered to use his manipulator, but he admitted with a fond stroke of the TARDIS’ walls, he thought she would enjoy this trip too. (I was, honestly, relieved. I didn’t much like the sound of travel by Vortex manipulator!) He pushed the Doctor away from the console. “Let me enter the coordinates, Dad. This is a surprise! You just can’t stand it, can you?”

The Doctor was glaring at him. “I don’t want to go.”

“Daaaad…”

“What the hell do you mean, you don’t want to go?” I wasn’t honestly surprised by his reaction. I’m pretty sure we both knew where Wilfred was taking us, and the Doctor was being bloody-minded and obstinate. Mind you, with perfectly good reason. His emotional distress over his home world had been festering for years, maybe all his life, and he’d only recently managed to get it back under some semblance of control.

“I mean, I don’t want to go! Full stop! Kaput! Fertig! Klaar! And just NOPE!” He fixed me with that _I’m-not-compromising-so forget-it_ look of his.

I gave Wilfred a kiss on the cheek, stopping what was likely to be an outburst he would regret, and told him to give us a minute, maybe longer... maybe a lot longer. Then I went to the Doctor, and took him down to our bedroom. “How about a kip, yeah. It’s been a long day. It’s well past bedtime.” I tossed him his jimjams, and we got ready for bed.

A few minutes later, I snuggled up to him under the covers.

“I’m not going.”

“I know, love.” We lay there, just cuddling for a few minutes, and a memory of a previous Christmas drifted into my mind. “Hey, do you remember that Christmas when Wilfred gave you the transparency setting for wood? He was so proud. He’d been planning the reveal all day.”

The Doctor chuckled.

“He’s always so thoughtful, yeah. What a great Christmas that was! We all bundled out there with hot chocolate and ended up spending the whole evening stargazing and telling stories.” I felt his body relax. “I was so shocked when you pointed up to the sky and told us that’s where Gallifrey was supposed to be.”

“Weeell…”

“And then you even told that story about running through the grass, flying your little kite.”

“It got stuck in a Cadonwood. A gust of wind just took it off course.”

“But you got it down. You flew that little kite again.”

“I know what you’re doing.” He always knew… and I wasn’t being terribly subtle.

“Yeah? Is it working.”

“Absolutely not.” But he rolled his eyes and gave me a long, lingering kiss.

“Just sleep on it for a bit. That’s all I’m asking.” I stroked the stubble on his cheek and tucked my head under his chin and we gradually dozed off.

A few hours later, he was dressed, stubble-free, and back in the console room with a brand new attitude. “All right, son. It’s time I faced my demons…”

Wilfred grinned. “You’ll love it, I promise. Ready?”

The Doctor nodded and with that, Wilfred threw the last lever in the dematerialization sequence. The landing was gentle, and with a flourish of his hand he directed the Doctor to the doors. “Happy Christmas, Dad.”

I saw the Doctor hesitate as he moved to go out, and sensed he was going to turn back. I couldn’t let that happen. This was something he needed to do. Whatever he found on the other side of those doors, it would no longer be a product of his tortured imagination. It would be real, something he could deal with head on. _Together, love,_ I suggested over our bond, and I took his hand. He was shaking. I did my best to reassure him. _Love, he would never have brought you here if he thought it would be a bad thing. Come on._ I tugged on his hand and we stepped up to the doors. “Together!”

With that, we pulled the doors open.

The Doctor gasped and squeezed my hand so hard it hurt. His emotions rushed over me as he took in the vista before him: apprehension, joy, sadness… and a lot of hope. I nudged him over the threshold, and we stepped out onto the soil of Gallifrey. We were on a little rise in the middle of a field of beautiful, long grass… and such a deep, rich, gorgeous red… spread out before us. Here and there were little groves of slender trees (the kite-snatching Cadonwoods, I guessed) with silver leaves, flickering in the breeze. And beyond all that… mountains. I can’t describe them properly: rugged and capped with snow, and all sorts of colours… purples and browns. The sky was amber, but as we stood there, everything began to grow brighter, and the sky began to turn more blue. Birds (I think they were birds or something like them) started chattering in the trees.

“The second sun rising in the south…” The Doctor whispered the words, and I when I looked up at his face, Santa, it was more beautiful than any of that scenery. Tears sparkled on his cheeks, but his expression… I’ve only ever seen that expression a few times before, and that was when he’d held each of our children for the very first time. It was wonder and disbelief and joy all mixed together.

He looked at me and beamed, his grip on my hand tightening again. “RUN!” And suddenly he was dragging me down the little hill, leaping and bounding through the grass like a puppy, and I couldn’t help laughing at him, even as I tried to catch my breath. He was so happy! He dropped my hand and danced around me, whooping and cheering. After a few minutes, he bounced his way back to the TARDIS, me tagging along behind, and Wilfred stepped forward to greet him. He handed him a kite, a simple diamond design.

“You once told us the story of how you would run through the red grass, flying your kite. (Just what me and the Doctor had talked about before our nap!) I thought you might like to give it another go.”

“Oh, yes! Oh, Wilfred! This is…” He pulled him into a hug, then gratefully took the kite and waved it at me. “C’mon, Rose Tyler, help me fly it!” I skipped over to him, and he handed me the kite as he let out a length of string. “You hold it up and I’ll run ahead! You know when to let go!”

Yes, I did. The Doctor loved to fly kites and we had done this a thousand times if we had done it once. In seconds, he was tearing across the field again, his exhilaration bursting like fireworks in my mind, and I was holding tight to the kite and stumbling along behind him until I felt the wind catch and tug at my fingers.

And then I released it, and watched it soar into the air, the words “Welcome Home” emblazoned in Circular Gallifreyan onto the kite’s wings.

I suddenly realized I was releasing him too, and a cold dread settled in my gut: I closed my emotions to him as I panicked and selfishly felt the need to keep him right beside me, as though if I didn’t he might abandon me and disappear into this world, into Gallifrey, never to return. That scared the hell out of me.

But how could I deny him this? Even if he left me, just knowing he was happy… that would be enough. I forced back my tears and watched him wading through the grass, gazing up at the dancing kite as it went higher and higher into the brightening sky. I don’t know if I’d ever seen him so alive. Oh, I love him so much; I know I’ve said it a lot, but I do, I really do!

Eventually, he reeled in the kite and jogged back to the TARDIS where Wilfred and me were waiting. He was beaming and his hair was wilder than ever and his eyes were glowing. “I can’t believe it’s here! Gallifrey!” He picked me up and whirled me around. “And I can feel them… the people… in my mind, their voices in my mind!”  

Oh god, Santa, my jealousy just flared at the thought of anyone else in his mind. I felt horrible but I couldn’t help it, and I bolstered the mental shields I’d thrown up earlier. “I thought you were touch telepaths?”

“Oh, we are… were…, but there’s a sort of a telepathic field, nothing specific, just like distant chatter, background noise I suppose you could call it. I’m aware of them, but not of who they are or what they’re thinking. Just that they’re there. And the Time Lords… weeell, _we_ were all telepathically linked, like a sort of hive mind when it was needed, but that was stronger, and deliberate. This isn’t anything like that. This is just innocent whispers, nothing meant for power or manipulation.”

“Like the TARDIS in my mind?”

“Weeell… yes and no… not so specific. Not so intimate or intense.” I hoped he couldn’t feel my sense of relief at hearing that. I was desperately trying to push all my negative emotions aside and just enjoy the adventure. I certainly didn’t want to ruin this experience for him. And yet here I was doing just that…

“What are you doing with your shields up?” He touched my face, concern chasing away his joy. I felt like such a cow, worrying him like that, when all he wanted to do was share this experience with me. “Actually, you should be able to sense them as well. You’ve become quite a strong telepath. But first, you need to let them in.”

“I’ll try,” I wanted to reassure him so I relaxed my mental walls a bit, tucking my jealousies and fears behind a doorway in my mind, and opened myself to welcome the Gallifreyan voices. It was like a choir singing very faintly, very far away, just on the edge of my awareness. _It’s lovely…_ I told him truthfully. It was, but he’d noticed my tight smile and I knew he sensed something in the turn of my thoughts. I couldn’t really hide my feelings from him, such an experienced telepath.

He didn’t say anything, just drew me into a hug and kissed my forehead and made me feel so incredibly loved.

“Oi! Yuck, you two! Break it up!” Wilfred’s voice cut into our intimate little moment, and we pulled out of the hug, chuckling.

Wilfred pointed out the footpath that meandered through the field and suggested we walk into town. He told us there was a small community at the end of the path where we could stop to get a bite to eat and meet some people.

“Allons-y!” The Doctor snatched up my hand in his again, and grinning from ear to ear, pulled me along the path. I couldn’t help laughing, my fears dissipating, knowing he wanted me with him. Besides, the prospect of an adventure with my two boys… what could be better?

As we walked, Wilfred admitted to having travelled here several times, often staying for long periods. He told us some of what he had learned about _this_ Gallifrey. First off, there were no Time Lords, and the Gallifreyans had no active time sense that he could discern. (The Doctor seemed especially interested in this fact, and immediately began taking readings with his sonic.) They were an intelligent, hard-working, and thoughtful people from all walks of life. Regardless of their profession, everyone was encouraged to continue to learn and challenge their mind throughout their life. Many attended schools of higher learning in the major cities, like Arcadia.  

They were a philosophical people who were very open to offworlders visiting, and welcomed new opportunities for learning with open arms, but only a very few ever sought to leave Gallifrey. And it was no wonder. They had turned it into a virtual paradise. Through ingenious methods, they extracted water from the atmosphere, creating oases of civilization even in the driest parts of this dry planet, beautiful, lush communities where life thrived. They nurtured their world and it nurtured them.

They were quite long-lived, living about 250 Earth years on average, though they didn’t have the extended life span the Time Lords had enjoyed, even without the ability to regenerate.

“But why not? Why didn’t they evolve into Time Lords?” The Doctor was muttering happily to himself, thrilled to have a mystery to solve along with his enjoyment at just being able to experience this version of his home planet again. It seemed without those Time Lords, Gallifrey was a much kinder, gentler place, and he was truly quite delighted by that fact.

His obsessive questioning suddenly transformed to awe when we arrived at our destination, a little town called Flanx. The grassy plains morphed into farmland around the town. Flanx itself was… I want to say quaint, but I don’t think that’s quite the word. It was clean and modern, highly efficient. But it was also a comfortable, welcoming place. It was so pretty, flowers everywhere, and fruit trees and vegetables growing in every garden. There was nothing outlandish or snobby about it, nothing like the stories I’d heard from the Doctor about the Gallifrey he once knew.

The main street was quite busy with people going about their business, and a huge, colourful, open air market was set up in the town square. I was drawn by a vendor selling some of the gorgeous tunic dresses worn by the locals. The fabrics were exquisite: soft and durable, and dyed in beautiful colours and designs.

“They recognize UCS [that means Universal Credit Sticks, Santa] as currency,” Wilfred whispered in my ear, giving me a nudge.

The Doctor came up behind me, placing a hand on my lower back, stroking. He nodded to a tunic I had been eyeing: flowing and knee length, soft blue with a gauzy amber overlay. It looked like the dawn sky. Stretchy mid-calf leggings came with it. “Would you like it, love?”

I bit my lower lip, a habit I had never outgrown, and nodded. “But you need one too…” I smirked at him, “to blend in. Not that I mind the jeans and jumper, but it’s just that these tunics look so comfortable, and if I’m going to go native, you are too!”

The Doctor pursed his lips. I could sense his annoyance… mild annoyance. He hadn’t expected me to turn the tables on him like that, but I have to admit, it was nice to know I could still pull one over on him once in a while. I watched as he perused the selection available.

“Weeell, as long as it doesn’t come with a ridiculous headdress I suppose… Ah-ha!”

I followed his eyes and burst into gales of laughter. I couldn’t believe it. He’d found one in brown fabric with a dark blue pinstripe running through it. Soft brown trousers were worn underneath. “Oh my God! You have to buy it!”

“Oh, yes!” And with that, the Doctor spoke in Gallifreyan to the woman at the stall, and purchased all our items, including some sandals for me. He insisted on sticking with his trusty Chucks. I wrapped my arms around him and planted a kiss of thanks at the corner of his mouth.

We wandered through the market some more. The Doctor insisting on buying me a circlet for my hair (they seemed to be all the fashion): a simple design of silver metal, woven into infinity knots. I suddenly felt shy and self-conscious, worrying about how ridiculous it would be to waste it on my greying hair. “I should probably listen to Mum and go blonde again, yeah.”

“Don’t you dare! I love the silver in your hair, and this circlet will complement it perfectly. My precious girl…” He placed it on my head, and leaned in to give me a rather wonderful kiss.

“All right, love birds!” Wilfred had an annoying habit of interrupting us when we were having lovely, romantic moments. “How about we grab a bite to eat. I know a fantastic little restaurant just down the street…”

True to his word, the restaurant was fantastic and the meal was delicious. I had a sort of stew made with some mildly spiced, succulent meat, marinated in Ulanda fruit sauce and served with a wonderful flatbread, perfect for mopping up the last bits from the plate. The Doctor went completely mental when he saw the dessert menu, though. “Oh, oh, oh, Rose! They have Karmine pudding! You have to try it! This fruit! There’s nothing better in the universe! I used to have it all the time when I was a child.”

“What? There’s a fruit in the universe better than bananas?”

“Rose Tyler! Karmine is more bananas than bananas!”

“You’re bananas!” Wilfred muttered, and I laughed. I admit, I’d been thinking the same thing.

“Karmine is the original banana! Sweeter, richer… more banana-esque. Where do you think bananas came from, Rose?”

I shrugged. What else could I do? But it turned out he was right; the pudding was gorgeous!

As we stepped out of the restaurant, I sighed. I reminded them that Christmas was tomorrow… erm, today. We needed to get home. It was already nearly six in the morning, our time.

The Doctor’s face fell. “Oh, well all right then… allons-y!” he said, trying to be upbeat, and failing miserably.

My heart broke, and when Wilfred groaned, “Muuuuum! I have something really special to show you! Time it, Mum! Just this once! Time it!” I found myself questioning when I had become such a “rules” sort of person. I always used to be the first one to break them: go wandering off to find an adventure, or leap into a stranger’s “London Hopper” without a second thought for those I was leaving behind. I reckon that’s one of the ways being a parent changes your life.

“Well, I suppose…” I was grinning from ear to ear at the thought of this tiny rebellion. “And this way, I get to say Merry Christmas to you twice,” I crooned into the Doctor’s ear.

“Blimey, Mum! Child present!”

\--ooOoo--

We camped out that night under the stars. After snuggling into sleeping bags from the TARDIS, the Doctor regaled us with the names of all of the constellations we could see. I eventually fell asleep to the sound of his voice and the familiar thud of his heartbeat against my cheek. I don’t think he slept at all, himself. He was far too excited.

Wilfred was excited too, barely able to contain himself the next morning. He was dying to show us the “really special” place he had mentioned the previous day. He didn’t want to give too much away so it would be a surprise, but he did mention we’d have to take the TARDIS to get there. It was much too far to walk.

We dressed in our new Gallifreyan tunics, and when the TARDIS landed, the Doctor flung open the doors and stepped out, open-mouthed. I came out behind him and found myself in the middle of a spectacular mountain vista. We stood in the foothills by the banks of a rushing river. Everything was lush and covered with all kinds of plants with leaves in purples, reds, and golds.

“Where did you say we came out?” the Doctor asked Wilfred as he joined us.

“We’re right at the edge of the mountain range, in the valley between the mountains Solace and Solitude. The view is spectac−”

“It’s gone!” The Doctor staggered forward, clutching at his hair, and my heart just leaped into my throat. “Completely and utterly… gone!” He was projecting an aura of what I could only describe as emptiness.

I asked him, as gently as I could what he meant, and when he turned to me his eyes were wild. “It’s gone. It was right here… weeell, I suppose it was never _here_. Not in this universe…”

“What wasn’t, love? What did you expect to see?” I turned to look at Wilfred, who was just as concerned as me, by the looks of him.

“The Citadel… the Capitol… beautiful city, majestic. Enclosed in a mighty glass dome, the entire city. And it’s just not here...”

I wrapped my arms around him from behind, my cheek pressed against his shoulder, and I tried to let him know how sorry I was, how sad.

He told me he wasn’t sad, not really. Just shocked. “Completely floored, to be honest!” The city had been a symbol of power and dominance, beautiful, yes, but full of corruption. It had been built on the bones of the original Capitol, and below that were the Vaults and Cloisters where the Time Lords guarded some of their darkest secrets. “But I think the saddest thing of all was deep in the Vaults, an Undercroft. It was a huge natural cave, reworked and modified by the Time Lords…” A single tear rolled down his cheek, and I felt how his heart ached. He gulped back a sob. “They sent TARDISes there to die. Discarded. When it was deemed they had outlived their usefulness.”

Our TARDIS hummed a melancholy little sound, and I could feel her stroking the Doctor’s mind, desperate to reassure him, bolstering my attempts to do the same.

“Maybe just as well it isn’t here. A pretty bauble to look at, but…”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t know…”

“Not your fault. And yes, I can’t help but think this world, this universe is better off for the absence of the Time Lords. They were sworn never to interfere, only to watch. But they couldn’t resist the temptation of power in the end. The Time War itself was the ultimate evidence of that, the ultimate interference, and coupled with their disdain for “lower” lifeforms, weeell…”

“What I brought you here to see,” Wilfred said softly, “I think will make you feel better about all of that. It’s beautiful too, but in a natural way. You’ll see. C’mon, it’s up this way a bit.” He gestured upstream. We hiked up the river bank along a faint foot path until we reached a cabin that peeked out from a little grove of Cadonwoods. Wilfred explained that there was someone he wanted us to meet, a guide who would be able to take us further. He stepped up onto the little porch of the cabin and knocked on the door.

A young woman opened the door, and after a brief hesitation, threw her arms around Wilfred’s neck. “Wilfred! You returned!” Me and the Doctor just looked at each other, stunned.

“Course I did. Said I would, didn’t I?”

“And these must be your parents…” She pulled away from Wilfred and stepped toward us. She was petite, with dark, caramel skin and long, straight black hair, and her eyes were an extraordinary, piercing blue.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah…” My poor baby. I think he’d almost forgotten we were there, but I could hardly fault him for that. The girl was beautiful. “Erm,” he stammered in Gallifreyan, “this is my mum, Rose Tyler, and my dad, the Doctor. This,” he nodded at the girl, “is Tianza.”

“Tianzadruxdomdivaradamas,” (obviously her full name) “but you can call me Tianza. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, I see some things haven’t changed,” the Doctor piped up, even as he took Tianza’s hand to shake. “You lot still have ridiculously long names.”

I elbowed him in the ribs and admonished him over our bond: _Rude!_ To Tianza, I spoke aloud using the best Gallifreyan I could manage in an effort to be polite, even though the TARDIS was happily translating for me (the Doctor had long since made sure Gallifreyan was included in her translation matrix.) “Sorry about him. Nice to meet you Tianza.”

She just laughed and invited us in, and offered us some fruity biscuits and cold spring water for a snack. “So you want to see the Chanting Caverns of Consolation, is that right?”

For a second there, I thought maybe the TARDIS had mistranslated what she had said, but Wilfred quickly agreed with her. The Chanting Caverns it was then. Soon we were off hiking again, with Tianza leading the way. We climbed higher into the foothills, continuing upstream along the river. As we walked, she told us a little about herself. She was a student at the Advanced Biological Academy in Arcadia, and was stationed here to study and protect the flora and fauna in the Chanting Caverns of Consolation. I couldn’t help but notice how Wilfred hung on her every word. Besotted. She seemed quite fond of him too, but whether she was as taken with him as he was with her, I rather doubted. Still, I reckon she seemed like a nice enough girl.

We stopped to eat lunch at a spot where we could no longer follow the river. It flowed out from below ground at this point. Underneath us were enormous caverns and a great underground lake, fed by the river from further up the mountain. This was to be our destination.

“Just wait, Dad! You’ve never seen anything like this!” Wilfred was practically vibrating in anticipation.

An hour later we were standing at the large entrance of a cave. A soft droning sound drifted up to us, a melodic humming, so familiar, but so wild and strange at the same time. I felt a gentle prickle at the edges of my mind, someone, something attempting to make contact. Me and the Doctor found one another’s hands. “Is it safe? The telepathic field?” I blurted out, feeling silly. Nothing about this felt hostile, but I’d experienced enough deception in my life to know to proceed with caution.

“You can sense them?” Tianza sounded impressed. “They’re curious about strangers, that’s all. Purely emotional communication. Very safe.”

We descended into the cave, the narrow passage sloping gradually down to the underground lake. We could hear the humming better as we got closer. It wasn’t loud but it trembled, almost like voices in vibrato, not high pitched, though, but not deep either, lots of songs all at once… chanting… the Chanting Caverns. It was… I can’t think of a word to properly describe to you how beautiful the songs were, Santa, but combined with the telepathic field, they were just so powerful and wonderful and gave such a feeling of wellbeing. The Chanting Caverns of Consolation.

As we drew closer, I could hear the lake water sloshing against the shore, giving rhythm to the chorus of humming voices, and I realized I was able to see quite well even though we were deep underground.

“Do you have lights set up down there?” the Doctor asked.

“No, that’s just… them.”

“Who? Who or what is down here?” I could feel his nervous energy, held tightly under control, his imagination running wild with endless questions.

“Just wait, Dad,” Wilfred said. “Just around this corner and…”

“The Shimmering Coral Forest.” As Tianza spoke those words, the passage opened up and before us was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. All along the shores of the lake were lovely, little coral trees, draped with glowing fruit that dangled from their branches on long vines. Some were just little saplings with tiny bioluminescent buds, while others were strong, fully-grown corals. No matter their shape or size, I recognized them instantly.

“Those… those are…” The Doctor was stammering, at a loss for words. “But that’s impossible. I never considered…” Tears rolled freely down his cheeks and I held fast to his hand, leaning against him, and just took in the marvels of the Shimmering Coral Forest. “They’re TARDIS corals…”

“TARDIS? What word is this?” Tianza asked.

“Now that, _that_ is a long story…”

“I’d like to hear it sometime, if you are willing to tell it, but we know these entities as the Consolation Corals. We believe they are unique to these caves. To date, they have not been found anywhere else on Gallifrey.”

I asked if we could walk among them, touch them, make contact. Tianza gave her permission, and hand in hand, me and the Doctor moved forward to meet these beings, who were so reminiscent of the entity who was our beloved TARDIS. I was drawn to them, and as I reached out to touch one, they seemed to bend toward me, and connect with my mind in a much more intimate way. Touch telepaths of sorts. It all felt so familiar, so much like how I communicated with the TARDIS, but less intense, less precise.

The Doctor felt it too. “These are the same caves where the TARDISes were sent to die. And look, here they are in their natural state, brim-full of life, Rose! These brilliant beings!” He pondered how they, like the Gallifreyan people, were so similar to those in the Prime Universe, yet they had evolved no sensitivity to time.

We spent hours wandering among them, marvelling at the beauty of the bioluminescent lights reflecting on the ripples of the water and listening to the peaceful songs that surrounded us.  Wilfred helped Tianza collect data for her studies and then the two of them left us to explore alone. We sat down at the base of a large coral, deep in the centre of the forest, and felt its strength fill us.

As comfortable as we were, eventually we had to leave the Shimmering Coral Forest, but Tianza invited us to come back any time. On our return trip to the cabin, we told her the far-fetched tale of our lives in a different universe and the fate of the corals and the people there. And we told her about our TARDIS.

She came back with us to meet the TARDIS, and I thought she handled the shock of experiencing the _bigger-on-the-inside_ business very well indeed. She was intrigued that she could communicate on a rudimentary level with the TARDIS, and how familiar it felt to her. We asked her to supper and after pudding took her to see our very own Consolation Coral deep under the central console. She expressed understandable concern about the way the TARDIS was all wired up, how she was (as she saw it) enslaved to this life of being a space and time vessel, but we explained how much love there was between us and our beautiful girl, how we considered her family, a partner, and how we trusted her to keep us safe, and we did our best to protect her as well.

The Doctor did admit that not all TARDISes had been treated with the same respect we had for ours, and that “slavery” was probably not too far off the mark in many cases. He was just so happy that this Gallifrey had evolved so differently, though he still had to discover why that was the case. He asked Tianza about the Untempered Schism, and she had just looked confused. She’d never heard of it.

The next day we took her on a trip to see her planet from space. She and Wilfred sat in the doorway, with their feet dangling, watching the rusty orange planet spin before them. I didn’t miss Wilfred covering her hand with his, and the way she leaned her head against his shoulder. Maybe she was fonder of him than I’d previously realized. I couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. It was a romantic location, that doorway. Me and the Doctor had spent many an hour there, taking in the sights, both in this universe and the other.

The Doctor took the opportunity of being in space to perform a proper scan of Gallifrey using the TARDIS’ scanners. It showed him what he had suspected all along: the massive rift in space and time, known as the Untempered Schism, had never formed on Gallifrey. Without prolonged exposure to the naked Vortex, Gallifreyans had never evolved into Time Lords and the corals had never developed the potential to manipulate time and space.

Later, we took the TARDIS into the Chanting Caverns to meet her kindred. She warbled and hummed with the corals, and we could feel her joy and contentment absolutely bubbling over our bond. Me and the Doctor looked at one another and we knew what we had to do, what was only right to do. She could have friends of her own kind now, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that we offered to let her stay here, if that was what she wanted, to allow her the freedom she deserved for the rest of her days. It made my heart ache and brought to the forefront of my mind how I’d been feeling about the Doctor, losing him to this world, too. If I was to lose them both…

But the TARDIS enveloped our minds in what could only be described as a hug. We were her family, her life. Her freedom was exploring all of space and time with us, and she intended to spend her life looking after us and our family. _Forever_ , she hummed.

We said goodbye to Tianza (Wilfred did too, though I suspected he would be visiting her a lot with his Vortex manipulator), and we ended up spending another entire week exploring Gallifrey: the universities and academies; Arcadia; the mountains; and many of the smaller communities around the planet.

I often took my easel and paints with me and let my muse run mad. There was inspiration everywhere, from scenes of everyday life to spectacular vistas. My favourite of my paintings, though, is of a little boy, running through an immense field of long, red grass, dragging a ragged little kite in his wake. I’ve managed to keep that one a secret from the Doctor. I still have a bit of work to do on it, but I hope to give it to him as a gift one day.

One night over supper, the Doctor sadly declared he thought it was well past time we return to our own timeline and celebrate Christmas with our family. This had been a brilliant, life-changing Christmas gift, one he would enjoy for many years, but for now, it was time to go home.

As we curled up to sleep under the Gallifreyan stars, I knew it was time to face my fears once and for all. Just as we had done for the TARDIS, I had to set the Doctor free, to give him that choice. “Are you sure? You’re certain you want to go back? You don’t have to feel obliged, you know…”

He gave me an odd look and arched his eyebrow at me. “What are you on about, eh?” He probed over our bond, and found the unfamiliar door in my mind where I had hidden all my feelings of jealousy and possessiveness and my fear of losing him on our first day on Gallifrey, and every day since, to be honest. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind, hmmm? May I look?”

I felt so guilty for having any feelings at all that would make it seem I didn’t want him to be happy I couldn’t look him in the eye, but I nodded and allowed him access to that room behind the door. The second he opened it, all my repressed fears and emotions came rushing out at once, before I was able to rein them in.  

I couldn’t hold the tears back any more than I’d been able to hold back that rush of emotions, and within moments I was blubbing away like a big baby. “When I saw the words on the kite Wilfred gave you when we first got here… _welcome home_ … it made me think, yeah. I was just so afraid I’d lose you to this planet. I mean, it’s your _home_. I’m so sorry! You’re having the most brilliant experience of your life, and here I’m being such a cow. But, honestly, I just want you to be happy, even if it means having to lose you; I don’t care what the cost. I mean it, I really do.”

He was crying too, now, and holding me so tight, rocking me and repeating like a mantra, “You are my home.” Finally, our tears had calmed a bit, and he said, “I thought you knew that.”

“I did. I do. I guess I’ve just never had to compete with an entire planet before.”

“There was never any competition, love. Gallifrey was where I grew up, and I have some very fond memories of it, but it never really felt like home, no matter how hard I tried to make it that way. It’s why I ran away. The TARDIS and all my friends were the closest things I had to that. Then you came into my life. You gave me a future and a reason to live. You gave me the one adventure I always thought I could never have. And, yes, I _do_ want to come back and have more adventures here, on _this_ Gallifrey, but only if I have you by my side every step of the way. You’re it for me, Rose Tyler. My home. Forever.”

Santa, I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve him. Yes, there are certainly times he’s so bloody thick-headed he makes me want to pull my hair out, but honestly, I wouldn’t have him any other way. He’s my home, too.

I hope you found your way back to _your_ home safely this year, Santa, and that it was filled with love. Give my love to Mrs. Claus, the elves, and all the reindeer.

**Love, Rose.**

* * *

 


	23. December 24, 2038 (Prompt: Santa and/or Elves)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie decides to make Ugly Christmas Jumpers for everyone in the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Another chapter that got away from me! LOL And boy, did this one put up a fight.
> 
> To my betas, mrsbertucci and Rose_Nebula: once again, this chapter would not be what it is without you. You gave me inspiration (which I still feel guilty about!) and we had many, many discussions about lots of things to get me through this, including a particularly hilarious discussion about aliens (I’m dying laughing just thinking about it now… I don’t know why I find it so funny, I just do!) Just thank-you, both, for always being there when I need you, and putting up with my whinging. I love you both!
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts for their _31 Days of Ficmas_ prompts. The one I’m using today is _Santa and/or Elves_. I managed both, a couple of times!
> 
> I know it’s the middle of April, but since the weather outside (here in Ontario) is still frightful, I don’t feel too guilty about posting part of my Christmas story. I have eight more chapters to go for the full _31 Days of Ficmas_. I’m not sure if I will post any more through the year, or just write them and post them at Christmastime in December. I’ll see how it goes… ;D

December 24th, 2038

**Dear Father Christmas,**

My mum never does anything by halves. When Jackie Tyler sets her mind on something, she doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right in; she takes the bull by the horns and beats it into submission. God help anyone or anything standing in her way. Just ask the Doctor…

(On second thought, best not. He might not take it too well, especially not after… well, you’ll see.)

Anyroad, ever since we welcomed my little niece, Abby, into our lives last autumn, Mum’s been on a knitting rampage. She taught herself. She started out with little things like baby mitts and booties, but quickly progressed to sweet little cardigans and jumpers. And she’s gotten really good! My very favourite one was an adorable navy-blue jumper with the words “I LOVE MY DADDIES!” emblazoned across the front in big, pink letters. Tony and Noah (the proud Daddies in question) loved it too, and dressed little Abby in it _all_ the time, until summer came along, and they were forced to admit it was too hot for her to wear it anymore!

This year, sometime around August, Mum’s knitting took a rather… erm… dangerous turn. Stand aside, Molly Weasley: Jackie Tyler announced she was intending to knit jumpers for all of the Tyler clan, _and_ their significant others, this Christmas.

And not just any jumpers: _Ugly Christmas Jumpers_.  

She only told me and Dad, not wanting to spoil the “surprise” for everyone else. Honestly, we just had to grit our teeth and tell her what a “great idea” it was. It wasn’t like it would’ve made any difference if we’d told her how we really felt. Besides, this way we were likely avoiding the pain of a good hard smack, and months of her patented Jackie Tyler silent-not-silent treatment.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d told us about it because she was actually seeking our approval. No, we were to be models, though I rather think guinea-pigs would be a more apt description. Honestly, as Christmas approached, I was seriously beginning to think it would have been better to shut the entire Ugly Jumper Project down in its early stages and endure whatever punishment Mum might have dished out, but at that point, we were in too deep to turn back.

The worst part of the whole process was Mum constantly calling me throughout the autumn to come over to the mansion to try something on, or to bring over jumpers the kids had left behind when they came to visit, so she could compare the sizing with what she was knitting. To be honest it got to be a bit tedious very quickly, but I could hardly say no to her when she was throwing her heart into it. Besides, this way I was able to keep an eye out and nix any design I thought wouldn’t go down very well with the intended recipient.

But, the jumpers were, for the most part, not too bad. They were beautifully designed and made. I was honestly quite impressed. Most of them either featured a cute character like a snowman or penguin or something like that, or they were the traditional Fair Isle design, with rows of little repeating Christmas characters and symbols in garish colours. Regardless of the pattern, all of them had some sort of saying on them, like _Joy to the World_ , _‘Tis the Season_ , or _Let It Snow_.

“Soooo, which one is mine,” I asked.

“Never you mind, little madam. For your information, I ‘aven’ started it yet. And even if I ‘ad… as if I would spoil the surprise.”

I suddenly had a horrible thought. Cold dread washed over me. “Erm… what about the Doctor’s…?” Ever since he had revamped her dishwasher to sing _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ seven or eight Christmases ago, Mum had been out for revenge. Not that she would admit it. From the look she gave me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew better.

“Oh, I’m tryin’ to come up with jus’ the right pattern for ‘im. I’ve a couple in mind.”

“Muuuuum, don’t do anything rash, yeah?”

“Oh, honestly Rose, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I’m jus’ tryin’ to create a little Christmas cheer.”

“Oi! I’m the one stuck in the middle of you and the Doctor and your flippin’ _Christmas cheer_. Me _and_ Dad!”

She ignored me, of course, and did a complete about-face on the topic. “Oh, speakin’ of your Dad… I got his jumper finished. What d’ya think?” She held up a dark green jumper, with a comical Santa body on it. The pattern stopped at the collar, so Dad’s head would be taking the place of Santa’s head (your head, Santa!) The words Ho Ho Ho were knitted in bold yellow letters below Santa’s feet. “I’ll get ‘im to wear a Father Christmas ‘at and all!”

I had to laugh. “Good luck with that!”

“’E’ll do it if ‘e knows w’at’s good for ‘im!”

“That’ll make for more of your _Christmas cheer_ , then…”

“Oh, don’t ya worry; I’ll make it worth ‘is while.”  She winked at me. “There’ll be plenty of Christmas cheer and bells a jinglin’ around ‘ere.”

“Mum! TMI!”

“Since when ‘ave you been such a prude? I mean, jus’ look at the way you and ‘imself carry on.”

“Yeah, but there are certain things I really, _really do not_ need to know. And that, right there: that tops the list! Look, I gotta run. Dad’s asked me to give a presentation this afternoon.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… Oh, Rose, wait a mo’. I meant to ask: Charlie, is she seein’ someone regular these days? Will she be bringin’ a date for Christmas Eve? I’ll need to make ‘im or ‘er a jumper too, yeah, whoever they are.”

“I dunno, Mum. I never know with that one these days. I worry… a lot.”

“She’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’s jus’ a phase. ‘Sides, she’s nearly twenty years old. I don’t need to remind ya w’at you were up to at ‘er age… gallivantin’ around with that bleedin’ alien. Not that you cared a fig about my worries!”

“Mum…”

“She’s jus’ like you in so many ways, so bloody-minded.”

“That isn’t helping, Mum! I jus’ hope you’re right… about it being a phase. Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definite about her bringing a date.”

“An’ in the meantime, I’ll knit an extra generic sort of jumper, jus’ in case.” Mum must have noticed I was about to protest, because she cut me off before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth. “Nah, don’t worry; Lor’ knows, it’s no trouble. After all, Therin might still decide to bring someone, too, and I’ll need one for ‘er. Best to be prepared.”

“All right. Suit yourself. See ya soon. Love ya.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door, the problem of Charlie weighing heavily on my mind.

\--ooOoo--

That night as I was standing at the stove making supper, the Doctor came up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gave me a lovely kiss behind the ear. It was just what I’d needed. I’d been wound up all day.

“Penny for ‘em? You’ve been doing (might I say) a piss poor job of shielding your emotions.”

“That obvious, was it?”

“Yup.” He squeezed me tighter and gave me another tender little kiss. Even without our telepathic bond, I expect he would have figured out something was wrong. And I really _had_ been sloppy about keeping my worry contained. To be honest, I’d been _hoping_ he’d notice. “You could have just told me if something was bothering you.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, giving the sauce another stir. “I know. You’ve just been so stressed lately.”

The Doctor had been called in to help with seventeen frightened and violent Trumhurgi whose ship had crashed in Torquay. They were badly injured, and the Doctor was the only one who had any decent knowledge about their unusual physiology. It had been two months of providing medical care for them, sometimes round-the-clock for several days running. He’d been training Torchwood physicians and nurses as well, but it all took time. In addition, he’d been consulting about repairs on the Trumhurgi ship, and travelling back and forth in the TARDIS, obtaining spare parts and contacting worried family members, carrying their messages and even bringing them back to Earth to visit their recuperating relatives.

I’d been working on the case too, but I was helping out the traumatized humans who’d been caught up in the original crash and the violent, defensive outburst that had followed. Shots had been fired and, by some stroke of luck, there had been no deaths, but it had been a close call. Fortunately, I had a huge, experienced team at my command, so my end of the job had been a lot easier than the Doctor’s.

“I’m all right, love,” the Doctor assured me, as we dished up our supper and sat down at the table. It was the first time in weeks we’d actually been able to eat together. “Besides, by end of this week the last of the Trumhurgi go home in their very own, working-better-than-ever ship! Let’s have tonight be about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now spill. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s Charlie. I’m worried. I didn’t tell you about it because… well, the Trumhurgi… but Javic dropped by shortly after all that happened… with news.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened reflexively, but he waited for me to continue. “It seems Charlie has been taking a page out of Javic’s book, recently. She’s been, erm… let’s just say ‘embracing her sexuality’… a lot!”

“And he knows this how?”

“Well he ran into her at one of his favourite… spots.”

I sensed the Doctor’s anger flare, white hot. “He didn’t touch−”

“God, no! In fact, he’s sort of taken her under his wing, so to speak. Made sure she’s stayed away from all the dangerous places.”

The Doctor growled. He looked like he was fighting really hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes flashed at me. It had been a long time since I’d been a target for the Oncoming Storm. It was properly frightening (and more than a bit thrilling!) “And you… you never thought to tell me? _This?_ About our daughter?”

“You were so busy. And it’s not like−”

He launched himself out of his chair with a roar. _“You kept this from me?”_

Reflexively, I shrank back into my seat, like some timid little creature. “I’m sorry.”

He began to pace, tugging at his hair. Each time he passed me, he opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mental shields were locked in place and impenetrable.

After five long minutes, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t my habit to let him intimidate me and I wasn’t about to chicken out now; history told me, it was far better to confront him, not let him get away with his bullying behaviour. “Doctor, stop! Enough. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me!”

“That’s was the point of having this conversation, yeah? _Sit!”_

He did as I asked, shoving his plate away from him, across the table. I grabbed onto his hand before he could move it, pouring my love through our bond. I was gratified when his shields began to give; it was only a little, but it was a beginning.

“Any other information you want to impart?” he bit out.

“Well… apparently she has one of Wilfred’s Vortex Manipulators, so… erm… she’s _dancing_ through time and space.”

“Bloody hell!” He moved to stand again, but I held firm to his hand. He glared daggers at me. “Let go! We have to−”

“Have to what, Doctor? What do you propose we do? You’re not going to go storming in there like the Great Exterminator!”

“Try me!”

“This is Charlie… intimidation has never worked on that kid, and it’s not about to this time, either. We need to be rational and calm and supportive.”

“ _Supportive!_ But she’s−”

“I know. And Javic has been keeping an eye on her. He’s making sure she checks in with him, and he assures me she’s doing… fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t imagine Javic’s definition of ‘fine’ is quite the same as ours.”

I had to admit (but only to myself) I’d been thinking much the same way, though I knew Javic: he’d go to the ends of creation to protect any of us. “Hope’s been keeping in touch with her too,” I offered, hoping to appease the Doctor.

“Well that, _that_ is a bloody recipe for disaster!” His anger flared.

Again, I had to agree with him, Santa. For all that she means well, Hope tends to get a bit bossy with her younger siblings. She’s mellowed over the years, but still… My arguments were crumbling around me. “You’re right. Let’s go!”

“What?”

“Let’s _go_ … TARDIS. You. Me. Chat with our daughter.”

“But I thought you said...?”

“Changed my mind.”

\--ooOoo--

Charlie, it turns out, was not thrilled to see us. I hadn’t been expecting a joyous family reunion or anything, but I think it would have gone a lot better if the Doctor hadn’t barged up to the bar where she was cheerfully chatting up some green-skinned bloke, waving his psychic paper around like some crazed maniac and bellowing to said bloke that Charlie was under-aged (an outright lie… on that planet) and if he didn’t want to find himself in a whole heap of trouble he’d better scram. He’d then grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled her out of the building and into the TARDIS.

To say Charlie was furious was the understatement of the year! She was ranting on about how it was bad enough her “puritanical” sister was on her case, but the fact that _we_ were now interfering in her life as well incensed her to no end.  She only finally calmed after I ordered the Doctor out of the TARDIS. I would deal with him later.

In the end, there was very little I could actually do other than let Charlie know we’d both be there for her if she ever needed us. She assured me she was fine: having fun; being careful; and not doing anything too wild (and “bloody hell, Mum, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you… it’s just wrong…”.) I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t put myself in that mindset, and I told her as much.

“It’s just such a relief to be able to have fun and feel good without any obligations. I have so many obligations, Mum. School, Hand in Hand, work... This makes me feel, well free.”

Oh, Santa, it was then I realized how much that little girl (young woman) had taken on in her young life.

She must have seen the look of horror on my face. She grabbed my hand, and our familial bond snapped into place. She read me like an open book. “Mum, don’t you dare feel guilty. You never, ever pressured me, any of us, to do anything we didn’t want. You encouraged us in the best way possible, you… and Dad.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at the mention of her father.  “This is just my way of letting go a bit, taking time for me. Can you understand that?”

“Course I can, love. I worry, that’s all. Promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And listen to Javic.”

“Muuuuum! I know!”

“Now, since we spoiled your evening with that young man, how about we take you out to supper, yeah?”

“That sounds great! And don’t worry too much about my evening. He was a bit of a tosser, anyway. I was just about to walk out when Dad came barging in like some daft Onidsessi on pep pills. Urrrgh,” she groaned, “promise you’ll never let Dad near pep pills. Can you imagine…?”

“Oh, god, your Dad… he’s out there… Not on pep pills, but you know as well as me, he’s quite capable of stirring up all kinds of trouble without them if he gets a bit bored.”

Thankfully the Doctor hadn’t been stirring up trouble. We found him, pacing back and forth in front of the TARDIS doors. Charlie skipped right over to him, stopping him in his tracks and planting a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile. We might all drive one another completely mental sometimes, but there was no lack of love in our little family, and this incident had assured me our children always knew we would be a safe haven for them whenever they needed it.

With all our emotions running high, I never remembered to ask Charlie if she was bringing home a friend at Christmas, so Mum could plan an appropriate jumper. At this point, though, I didn’t imagine there would be anyone special, given that she seemed to be determined to stay away from serious relationships for the time being.

I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Santa, I need to run. We’re all at Mum’s tonight, and the jumpers have finally been unveiled. There were a few… complications. And I’m running interference! I’ll try to explain later.

Blimey! There goes the Doctor, now, and he looks far too happy for anyone’s good, especially considering…  Look, Santa, I gotta go! I’ll finish this letter up later.

\--ooOoo--

Santa, I’m back, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m going to begin. A lot of stuff went down tonight. A _lot_ of stuff.

Mum was just itching to hand out her Ugly Jumper parcels to everyone; I couldn’t get her to sit still, she was so excited. We were still waiting for Charlie to arrive and for Tony, Noah, and Abby, too. The Doctor had gone to collect Charlie in the TARDIS. Mum was bouncing off the walls.

Thank goodness my brother and his family decided to show up just after the Doctor left. Entertaining Abby was keeping Mum rather brilliantly distracted, and it meant _I_ didn’t need to entertain Mum. As it turned out, it was just as well Mum was preoccupied, because it gave her time to ease into meeting Charlie’s plus-one which turned out to be a bit of a shock for her, just not for the immediately obvious reason…

The lovely, familiar sound of the TARDIS filled the room about fifteen minutes after Tony arrived. She landed in her customary corner of Mum’s living room, wearing her traditional Blue Box disguise, but topped with festive snow and icicles, and a colourful wreath on her door. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze with raised eyebrows and a little prickle of warning through our bond. He was being very guarded, not sharing any specific thoughts or images, and that made me distinctly uneasy.

Charlie followed him and was tugging behind her what could only be her date for the evening. The creature seemed to unfold itself from the TARDIS. It was very tall and rail thin. Charlie was holding onto one of its appendages, a hand of sorts, at the end of one of its four upper limbs, formed from an assortment of tentacle-like structures. “C’mon Hrau-Ard,” Charlie coaxed. “You’re gonna love my family! Hell, you and Dad are already like best mates!”

“Possibly a bit of an exaggeration seeing as we only met six minutes ago,” the Doctor countered, allowing Charlie and Hrau-Ard to step in front of him, “but he seems like a fine chap, I have to say.”

It took me a moment to get over my shock. Now, let me be clear, Santa, I have _no_ trouble with interspecies relationships… I mean look at my darling husband, not exactly human for all he looks it. It’s just that Charlie, for all her sexual experimentation has never strayed far from standard humanoid partners before... at least according to Javic’s accounts. That’s why I needed to collect my thoughts before I moved forward to greet our new guest.

“Hello,” I smiled up into the creature’s majestic face. And majestic it was, by any standards… beautiful. Trust Charlie to pick a gorgeous date! A long muzzle, with an expressive mouth on the end, swooped up into a spectacular curved crest above it’s head. The crest had two main parts, a longer one below and a shorter part above. Its face morphed gradually from a rich teal colour at the muzzle to a deep indigo at the tips of the crests and was edged with many sensory tentacles and filaments. Two large purple eyes bulged above the snout, and several secondary eyes protruded from either side of the crests, set on stalks which were each adorned with several metallic rings. “I’m Rose Tyler, Charlie’s mum.” I held my hands out, spread open before me in the universal sign of peaceful greeting.

The creature bowed its head to me and dropping Charlie’s hand, held all four of it’s tentacle-tipped upper limbs out, mirroring me. Its fluting voice emanated from the crests. “Christmas greetings to you, Rose Tyler. My name is Hrau-Ard. It is lovely to meet you.”

“He’s male… mostly,” Charlie informed me, “so it’s okay to use ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Hrau-Ard piped in, bowing his head to me again, “Those pronouns seem to be the most accurate.”

Before I could respond to Hrau-Ard, Charlie impatiently snagged the hand she’d been holding earlier and tugged him past me. “Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family!”

He hooted in surprise, his long tan-coloured tunic billowing and brushing me as he passed. It dropped halfway down his two legs and contrasted spectacularly with the blues and greens of his skin and had an opening in the back through which a pair of wing-like appendages extended. They were bright turquoise and filmy (too delicate to be proper wings) and vibrated as he moved.

I admit, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Mum’s incredulous expression as she met him. She passed Abby back to Noah, and looked Hrau-Ard up and down, offering him all the appropriate greetings. She had come a long way since her “bog-monster” days on the Estate and was extremely well-versed in alien diplomacy. After all, she’d welcomed plenty into her home over the years. But, despite all her training and experience, she was still my mum, and I nearly choked when she repeated his name back for clarification: “Howard? Your name is Howard?”

With a low whistle of approval and if the TARDIS was translating properly, amusement, Hrau-Ard inclined his head, his facial filaments bobbing with the movement. “I enjoy the way you say my name, Charlie’s Gran.”

“Oh, just call me Jackie, please. Howard! Of all the names!”

“Is this name of significance to you?”

Mum glanced nervously over to Pete, who was busy grilling Wilfred and Tianza about the medicinal properties of a Gallifreyan plant he was interested in using in a new Vitex drink.  “Oh, ‘e’s jus’ an old mate of mine.”

“Fine fellow! Liked fruit!” the Doctor enthused from the TARDIS door with a broad, toothy grin. “I borrowed his pyjamas and dressing gown once!”

“Well then,” Hrau-Ard bleeped, “I am honoured to be his namesake.”

“Oh, off the two of you go then.” Mum shooed Charlie and “Howard” off to meet Tony, Noah, and Abby. She fixed a glare at the Doctor, who had stepped up behind me. “See, there, Time Lump! A proper alien, tentacles and all! ‘E at least ‘as the decency to look the part.”

“So sorry to disappoint you with my lack of appendages, Jackie (after all, I live my life _just_ to please you),” he snarked back at her. “Fortunately, as it turns out, there’s one Tyler who is rather fond of my one, rather impressive appendage, just the way it is.”

“All right, you two,” I cut off Mum before she had a chance to bite back, “it’s Christmastime, yeah? Peace on Earth. See, the halls are all decked,” I gestured around me, “merry and bright. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ooooh, I’d like to deck ‘is halls, all right…” Mum grumbled.

The Doctor leaned out around me to shoot another barb at Mum. “Is that your resting Grinch face, Jackie, or are you just happy to see me?”

Mum lunged at him, slapping-hand poised and ready. Fortunately for the Doctor, I was still in between the two of them. “Stop!”

“Cuddly as a cactus; charming as an eel… Mrs. Griii-inch” the Doctor sing-songed.

 _“STOP!”_ My shout silenced the room, everyone turning to stare at me.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Charlie cooed at Hrau-Ard, “that’s sorta their _normal_ behaviour.”

“Look what you two made me do,” I hissed at Mum and the Doctor. “Be civil! Honestly!” Fed up, I made to leave the two of them and go to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine, when Mum caught me by the sleeve.

“Blimey, Rose!” she whispered at me. “That Howard fella ‘as wings!”

“Yeah, well spotted! And tentacles!”

“No, no, no! The wings! ‘E’ll never fit into any of my jumpers! Never! And ‘e’s so bleedin’ skinny and all. (Blimey, ‘e makes the Doctor look like a sumo wrestler, ‘e does!) The jumper I made would be…”

“Mum, you don’t need to worry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

She burst into tears. “But I wanted everyone to ‘ave… and now ‘e’ll be without something from me… An’ it’s Christmas…”

The Doctor stepped up, concerned. He put a gentle hand on Mum’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? If it’s what I said, Jackie… you know I was just taking the mick.”

“No, no, no… nothin’ like that, ya plum.” She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “I’m jus’ disappointed is all.” She excused herself and rushed off in the direction of the powder room.

“What was all that about?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you?”

“Oh, you know I can keep a secret, Rose! Besides, I know better than to cross Jackie Tyler by leaking sensitive information. C’mon, give.”

I explained to him about Mum’s dilemma, how she had knitted ugly Christmas jumpers for everyone (his face blanched, probably imagining what she might have created for him) and now because of Hrau-Ard’s unexpected physical attributes, none of the jumpers she had set aside would ever possibly fit.

“Well, I could help,” he suggested. “She’s probably not going to like it much, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan of it myself, but I have an idea that just might work… if she’s willing.”

\--ooOoo--

Everyone was so busy with canapes and punch and cocktails they never noticed Mum and the Doctor bundling into the TARDIS and the TARDIS dematerializing. The TARDIS was proud to be showing off her new “Silent Mode”: there was only a little bit of a breeze to indicate she had ever been there. (My little darling.)

They had only been gone for about ten minutes before the TARDIS rematerialized and Mum burst through the doors, beaming and carrying a neatly wrapped parcel: Hrau-Ard’s gift. To my utter amazement, she turned back to stroke the TARDIS’ doorframe, planting a soft kiss on the blue wood. “Thank-you, sweetheart. You’re a wonder, you are.”

The TARDIS hummed in response, a wonderfully joyous sound, as Mum practically skipped over to the Christmas tree to tuck the present underneath.

The Doctor stepped up beside me, closing the TARDIS doors behind him. “They hit it off like a house on fire,” he told me, “the pair of them, thick as thieves. Turns out when your Mum was ill a few years ago, and I put her in stasis, the TARDIS kept her company in her mind; they became fast friends. Brilliant!” He grinned down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him as we followed Mum to the tree. Then he paused, and I glanced up at him to ask why we had stopped. The grin melted from his face. “Although… I don’t much like the idea of the two of them plotting against me behind my back.”

I just laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Blimey… you’re getting a bit paranoid! How long were you gone in your timestream?”

“Five and a half days, Rose. _Five and a half days_ … with Jackie Tyler on _my_ TARDIS! That’s enough to make anyone paranoid!”

I admit, Santa, I shamelessly started to laugh harder. “How did you ever survive?”

“After the first day, I learned pretty quick to keep my head down. I made myself scarce.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right.” I nudged him with my elbow. “They won’t plot against you…” (… _much,_ I added silently.)

“I heard that!” He arched an irritable eyebrow at me. “Do you realize she’s got her own room, Rose? No, not room, suite! The TARDIS gave her an entire suite of rooms with her own telly and a little galley too!”

“Awww, that’s lovely.” I was warmed through that the TARDIS had welcomed Mum so enthusiastically. My darling husband, however, was another matter. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll protect you from any plotting. C’mon, we better hurry. I don’t think Mum will be able to contain herself much longer.”

Mum was gathering everyone together, so she could hand out her creations, and getting a bit shirty at people who weren’t paying attention, so I dragged the Doctor over by the hand and found a comfortable seat for us.

Content that everyone was present and listening to her, Mum spoke: “I’ve decided to start a new Tyler-family tradition: Ugly Christmas Jumpers! Made by yours truly.” She preened and there was a round of groans from the family and a perplexed hoot from Hrau-Ard. “Oi! They’re not really _ugly_ … that’s jus’ w’at they’re called, yeah. See I’m wearin’ one.” She stood up to show off the jumper she was wearing. It was made of soft, silvery yarn and she had sewn tinsel across the front to form the words “Don’t get your tinsel in a twist,” in cursive script. Of course, she also had tinsel tied around her up-do. She looked sparkly and lovely. My Mum… She’s been through so much in her life, experienced so many odd things, and taken it all in stride; things that would make most people go completely loopy. I love her so much. I was positively chuffed to see her so happy, handing out brightly coloured parcels to all our family.

Dad was the first one to get his present, and he was a real sport about it, donning both his new Santa jumper and the Santa hat Mum had included in his parcel. Everyone burst out laughing when he stood up and smoothed his jumper down over his tummy, and said: “Do you think this makes me look fat? Ho-ho-ho!”

“Oh, sit down, you!” Mum admonished, but I could tell she was pleased as punch.

After that there was great excitement as we all opened our packages. Abby’s jumper was the cutest little thing, with an adorable gingerbread man wearing a Santa hat on a bright, red background. There were miniature gingerbread men down the sleeves and a few white strategically-placed snowflakes. I figure it’ll be a new favourite piece of clothing for her doting daddies!

Javic’s jumper featured a grumpy Santa reading his list of children’s names. The words “I’m at the top of Santa’s naughty list,” were emblazoned underneath. He was ecstatic, claiming it couldn’t have been more perfect. My jumper was… well, glorious in it’s tackiness! And I loved it! Oh, Santa, it was TARDIS blue, and a string of knitted fairy lights trailed all over it. In the middle, the fairy lights formed the words “Merry and Bright” and were lit up with little LEDs. Mum had outdone herself.

Hrau-Ard seemed uncertain what to do with his package, but Charlie soon sorted him out, helping him unwrap the gift. He held the jumper up in front of him, looking around at everyone else trying theirs on. He peered at the design on the front, all of his eyes trained on the bright patterns, and gave a long low hoot.

“Well, are ya goin’ to put it on, then?” Charlie prompted. “Here, I’ll help ya!” Together, the two of them made short work of slipping off Hrau-Ard’s tan tunic and replacing it with the jumper.

Hrau-Ard stood up out of his chair to show his jumper off. It was long, like the undertunic he wore, dropping to mid-thigh, and had perfectly aligned spaces for all four of his upper limbs and his wings.

“The TARDIS helped Jackie with the proper design and style, so it was compatible with his cultural expectations and with his body configuration,” the Doctor murmured in my ear. “She even provided all the yarn, if you can believe that!”

I took a closer look at the jumper. It featured an green-clad elf body on a scarlet background. Like Dad’s jumper, Hrau-Ard’s head took the place of the elf’s head. The words underneath said: “Take an ‘elfie with me!” It was hilarious! We were all in stitches, especially Hrau-Ard, who particularly appreciated the pun in the wording, and was honking with joy, and pulling out his mobile to take ‘elfies with everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice Therin was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He sat on the other side of the room glowering at Charlie and Hrau-Ard and their easy familiarity. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over Charlie. He still loved her, despite her obvious disinterest in him… at least as a romantic partner. My heart absolutely ached for him as he quietly trudged out of the room, wearing his Fair Isle T-rex jumper.

“I should go check on him,” I whispered to the Doctor.  

“Nah, he needs to work this out for himself, love. He can’t change what’s in his heart. He just needs time to come to terms with it.”

“I hate to see him so miserable though… I wish I could−”

“Oi!” Mum’s shriek of disapproval cut through my thoughts. “Where’s your jumper, then, Doctor?”

The Doctor shifted nervously next to me, and I felt his crushing fear in my mind. He picked at the wrapping paper on the package in his lap.  

“C’mon then, ya big baby! Open it up! I made it special, jus’ for you.”

“That… _that’s_ what worries me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Here, I’ll help you,” I offered. Honestly, Santa, Mum was right. He was being a big baby about it. Coward every time. “Best get it over with, like ripping a plaster off.”

“I don’t like plasters, and I don’t like the sound of your mum saying, ‘special just for you’. That, right there, Rose, sends my entire brain into mauve status!”

“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Even as I said the words, I glanced over at Mum who was watching the Doctor with a piercing, self-satisfied eye, and I braced myself. “Never mind. Just get it over with, yeah.”

By this time, we had the attention of the whole room, and the Doctor in a less-than-convincing act of enthusiasm, tore away the wrapping paper in one fell swoop. He reached into the shredded paper and pulled out the jumper, holding it up gingerly. Santa, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I swear the tears were pouring down my face, and the Doctor was scowling at me.

I better explain. The torso and most of the arms of the jumper were mostly brown. Around the cuffs of the arms, and at certain places over the shoulders were knitted green leaves. Some of them also trailed over the torso and back. When we lifted the arms of the jumper, we found dangling from their undersides none other than beautifully crafted, little knit pears! _Pears_ , Santa, which as I’m sure you know are the fruit the Doctor despises most in the universe… for reasons that have never been very clear to me.

The crowning glory was the gigantic bird sewn firmly to the left shoulder: a partridge.

Mum had given the Doctor a Partridge in a Pear Tree-themed jumper!

Strangely, the bird was not knitted but a small-scale but realistic model, complete with feathers… and that gave me pause for thought, and trust me when I say the thoughts were not optimistic for the Doctor…

“Well, w’at are you waitin’ for?” Mum barked. “Put it on, then?”

“What? You expect me to wear this travesty… this… this pitiable excuse for clothing? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, just put it on, Dad!” Hope cajoled from across the room. “We’re all wearing them.”

“Yours don’t have pears and a great bloody bird attached, do they?”

“The jumpers are splendid!” Hrau-Ard spoke up with an earnest honk. “This is the most comfortable piece of clothing I have ever owned. And it is humorous too. Doctor, you really should try yours.”

Mum just about melted on the spot at Hrau-Ard’s compliment. “Oh, Howard! You’re such a love. But, you’re just sayin’ that!”

“No, I am sincere, Jackie. It is perfect. I think I like Christmas. And Ugly Christmas Jumpers!”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll make you another for next year, yeah?

Howard… I mean Hrau-Ard hooted happily in response, and Mum turned her attention back to the Doctor, by which I mean, she glared daggers at him.

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded, “…if it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your harping,” he added under his breath. He stalked off to the downstairs loo, crushing the jumper in his clenched fist.

“I better go help him out…” I made my excuses and rushed off after him.

I heard Wilfred snickering to Hope, Gray, and Tianza, as I passed them. “Ten quid says they’re off for a snog… or worse.”

Hope just laughed. “No deal, little brother! That’s a sure thing.”

“Oi!” (I’m sorry, I had to protest!) “Enough out of you lot!”

“C’mon, Mum, face it,” Charlie interjected, “you two are an embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Wilfred agreed, “I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had to spring the two of you from prison for public indecency.”

“Oi, what’s this then?” Mum leaned in for more tidbits of information, and I cleared out of the room as fast as I could.

Exasperated, I knocked on the powder room door. “Doctor, it’s just me.”

He opened the door to let me in.

“Blimey, we’ll have to watch ourselves. That lot are making wagers on whether or not we shag in here, and they’re telling Mum all about our arrests…”

He groaned, sniffing in disdain. “Bloody brilliant! Christmas, an annual excuse for almost completely unfounded gossip and rumour.”

“Exactly!”

“And then there’s this…” He held up the jumper. “I don’t know why I have to put on this preposterous get-up?”

“Because as I recall, a few years back, you mucked about with Mum’s dishwasher. Now it’s payback time,” I reminded him. “C’mon then…” I helped him pull off the (sexy) red jumper he was currently wearing, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. “Tell you what, though: if you’re a good boy and put the jumper on, I will make it very much worth your while…”

“Oh, yes!”

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What? Right now?”

“I’ll make it quick… I know all your secrets.”

He growled at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be wanting another round later tonight, Tyler.”

“You think so, do ya?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favour. I’ll make you come so hard, your screams will be heard all the way to Gallifrey and back! Think you’re up for that?”

I gazed up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile and stroked him where he was now straining against the front of his trousers. “You’re on! But the real question is, can _you_ manage _not_ to scream? We don’t really need that lot making any more wagers at our expense.”

\--ooOoo--

Sorry Santa, got off on a bit of a tangent there… It happens sometimes, as you’re well aware.

So… where was I? Oh, yeah, so fifteen minutes later, we came out of the loo. With my help (holding the partridge), we managed to get the jumper over the Doctor’s head. He looked very, very, extremely not happy, despite my recent… erm… display of affection. “I feel ridiculous!” he gritted out to me.

“It’s just for a few hours, love.” I patted his arm and took his hand for moral support and made bloody sure to conceal my amusement from him.

As we returned to the living room, out the corner of my eye, I was pretty certain I saw some money changing hands, although, to his credit, the Doctor _had_ kept very quiet and I had checked that my hair and make-up were in order. Maybe they were wagering on whether he’d be wearing the jumper… Who knows?

Anyway, I had to agree with the Doctor’s assessment: the jumper did look more than a bit silly, but everyone cheered and laughed at it.  They were having so much fun over it, and the Doctor ended up being a good sport, showing it off, spreading his arms and making silly faces about the “vile” pears dangling from them.

I admit, I kept to myself the fact that I thought there had to be more to it than just a jumper with pears and a big, daft bird. Mum had waited years to get her revenge. She wasn’t about to let him off with something so… simple. I could only wonder what she had planned and when it would happen.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wonder very long.

It was only a few minutes later when Mum called us all over for supper. She, of course, had place-cards at every setting. The Doctor was sat between Hrau-Ard and Gray, somewhere in the middle of one long side of the table, and Mum and I were directly across from them. Charlie was on the other side of Hrau-Ard; Noah and Tony were sat on either side of Abby, who was in Tony’s old high chair at one end of the table; and Dad was at the other end. Everyone else was scattered randomly around.

As the first course was served, everyone began to chatter to one another. The Doctor seemed quite relaxed, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Mum’s eyes kept fixing on him as he made cheerful small talk to everyone around him. Her lips pursed reflexively every time he stopped talking. She tried a couple of times to get Dad to tell us about something that had happened at work, but he had insisted he didn’t want to talk shop. He was determined to take some time away from it.

“Fine,” Mum muttered under her breath, “just tryin’ to liven up the conversation. Honestly.”

“I thought we were having a lovely time,” I told her. “Everyone’s relaxed and chatting… well except Therin, but you know… What’s going on? You’re up to something. I know you. You never ask Dad about Torchwood.”

“Pfffft, don’t be daft! Course I ask ‘im. And jus’ w’at do you mean ‘up to somethin’’? W’at could I possibly be up to?” With that, she turned deliberately away from me and began speaking to Hope about the progress of the Lunar settlements and asking her how she was finding living on a base. “I don’ know if I could take it, yeah. No fresh air, being cooped up inside all the time. I think I’d lose my mind, yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes brightened as he responded to her. I was relieved he didn’t end up spewing out something rude about her already having lost her mind years back, which honestly seemed like it would be the natural course of the conversation. Instead, he launched into one of his diatribes about the environmental systems on the bases and how they purify the air.

With a smirk, Mum sat back in her seat to listen.

“…and remarkably, the fundamental design never changes from base to base, year after year. It’ll be centuries before someone gets the bright idea that basic human needs aren’t quite being met by–″ He was cut off when the partridge on his shoulder swung around and flapped its tail across his face. He frowned, spun the bird back around, and began to speak again.

This time the bird nipped his ear.

“Fuck!” he shouted in pain, which of course was mimicked loudly by Abby at the other end of the table.

“You dolt!” Mum snapped. “Now, look what you’ve done!”

“Oi! It’s your blasted bird that bit me! Oi! It just did it again!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giggles erupted from the little girl as her daddies tried to shush her, and everyone had a good laugh.

Except Mum (“Don’t be so stupid! It’s not a real bird, ya numpty!”); and the Doctor, who glowered at Mum but (remarkably) held his tongue.

“Mum,” I hissed at her, “it bit him. I saw it.”

“Bit him? Stuff and nonsense!”

The Doctor shook his head at me, and at his telepathic request, I decided not to pursue it any further.

Abby had calmed down again, her new word forgotten as quickly as it had come, and normal conversation resumed around the table as the main course was served. It wasn’t long before the Doctor had dived into a conversation about the most current medical breakthroughs with Gray and with Hrau-Ard, who was apparently training as a physician as well. They bantered back and forth for a short time and then the Doctor launched into a long discourse about the benefits of some sort of medical scanner or other. About a minute in, the bird wheeled around, slapping him in the face with its tail once more, and another few seconds after that, it bit him again.

“Right! Ow! Again, you bloody– Ow!” He dug into his trouser pockets for his sonic, threatening the bird with it. “Now, we’ll sort– Blimey! STOP! Ow!”

I glanced over at Mum who was chuckling away to herself, while everyone else was up, getting ready to help the Doctor. Oh, she knew exactly what was going on. And I had no doubt she had orchestrated it.

Hrau-Ard had stood up and was holding the bird still, his tentacled appendages wrapped around it securely. He was doing a great job keeping it from pecking at the Doctor’s ear, which seemed to happen every time he tried to talk.

Mum scoffed next to me. “Talks far too much, anyway, that one. Maybe this will teach ‘im to keep quiet and not monopolize the conversation.”

“So, this _was_ you, then? How the hell did you...?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it only goes off when ‘e natters on for too long. It resets again after ‘e’s given our ears a bit of a break.”

“But…”

“Oh, I know a few of the folks down in Tech. They were quite ‘appy to do me a little favour, especially after ‘imself barged in there a month or so back and told ‘em they were sequencin’ somethin’-or-other all wrong.”

“He told me about that. It _was_ all wrong!”

“Well, seems they didn’t like ‘is tone… all ‘igh and mighty and _‘I’m so clever’_.”

I flopped back in my chair, and just shook my head. I returned my attention to the other side of the table where the Doctor had adjusted the settings on his sonic and was brandishing it at the animatronic bird.

“Oi,” Mum yelped, “don’t you damage my bird.”

“Priorities, Jackie! Your bloody bird is trying to damage _me_. Do you realize how hard I had to concentrate to get these ears… not to mention this hair?”

“It _is really_ great hair,” I agreed.

“Oh, shush you!” Mum shot me a scathing look.

“Right then! Allons-y!” Heedless of my mum’s protests, the Doctor activated the screwdriver pointing it at his feathered attacker, and several things happened all at once.

The strangest screeching sound reverberated from Hrau-Ard’s crests in harmonics that mimicked the sonic. He lost his grip on the bird and doubled over, two of his appendages flying to his crests. “This tickles! This tickles! I think I am about to…”

The bird, freed from it’s confines, resumed its attack on the Doctor’s ear, feathers flying everywhere. The Doctor, fumbled his sonic screwdriver, caught it again, and made a quick adjustment to the frequency, constantly yammering and threatening the bird and Mum, not quite making the connection that if he just shut up, the stupid thing would stop pecking him. Finally finding an opening, he pressed the tip of the sonic to the bird’s breast, activating it with a triumphant “Ha!”

Hrau-Ard had resumed his composure once the sonic had stopped but started making that bizarre sound from his crests again once it was reactivated. His facial filaments were absolutely trembling. “It is happening again. I am going to… I am going to…″

The sound seemed to amplify the effects of the sonic. The hapless partridge stopped its attack, but its entire body began to pulse as the wailing hoots from Hrau-Ard’s crest intensified. Everyone was covering their ears, except the Doctor who had turned off the sonic, and was watching in horror, from the corner of his eye, the ominous pulsing of the bird on his left shoulder.

“I am going to–″ Hrau-Ard shouted, and his crests shrieked in a final eruption of noise, and the bird’s body suddenly exploded with a massive blast, sending feathers, sparks, and electronic gizmos everywhere.

“–sneeze,” Hrau-Ard hooted into the silence that had fallen over us all.

A long moment later, just as everyone was catching their collective breath, the Doctor yelped, as cinders from the explosion caught in his hair, causing it to smoulder and burn. “Ow, ow, ow! Blimey! My face! My hair!”

Abby started howling; everyone started shouting; I leaped across the top of the table to get to my poor husband; and Gray, the only one maintaining his composure, picked up a pitcher of ice water and dumped it over the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor sat there, completely stunned, as water dripped from his fringe into his face.

“Oh my God! Doctor!” I pulled his damp body against me, hugging him tight. “Are you all right?” I pulled back from the hug to look him in the face. I took in the angry red welts, the burned hair and…

He must have seen my astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“Your… your left eyebrow. It’s… it’s gone…”

“What? _What?_ ” His fingers flew to his brow, where the hair had been singed away. “WHAT?”

“And some of your hair… just up the left side…”

“Jackie Tyler!” he bellowed. He made to get up from his chair, but Gray shoved him back into it.

“Sit still! You have burns. I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator on them.”

“It won’t bring back my eyebrow, though, will it? My left eyebrow too. It’s my most expressive one,” he added wistfully.

Mum had come rushing around the table. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll cut your hair for ya, real nice. And your eyebrow will grow back again in no time, I expect.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will,” he said relaxing a bit. “And more expressive than ever! Makes you think, what would I ever do without eyebrows?” He shuddered at the thought. “And, Jackie, I have to admit, you couldn’t have known that the sonic would resonate with Hrau-Ard’s crests and make the bird explode like that. Though, I have to say, good riddance!”

“It is all my fault. I must apologize profusely,” Hrau-Ard hooted, his wings fluttering.

Mum protested, “Oh, no, Howard!”

“Nah, she’s right, Hrau-Ard,” the Doctor reassured him, “don’t be silly! But now I know not to use my sonic at that frequency in your presence.” He beamed. “Besides, what fun would Christmas be without a little bit of unexpected excitement?”

“At least there aren’t any blinkin’ killer Christmas trees, yeah?” Mum pointed out, as Gray finished up with the dermal regenerator.

“Oh yes! Too true. Looking on the bright side, Jackie. Do it while you can, because you know what…?” He bounded out of his chair, tore the remnants of the hapless partridge from his shoulder, and plucked the Santa hat from Dad’s head. He shoved it over his wet, scorched hair and with a wicked grin spreading over his face, he sang: “Jackie Tyler… you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Oh, God, Santa, the look on Mum’s face. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare…”

“And Santa isn’t happy, Jackie. Really, you better watch out…” He skipped away out of the dining room, heading directly for the kitchen.

Mum took off after him. “You stay away from my appliances. You’re a bleedin’ hellion, you are,” she shouted.

Hrau-Ard honked in alarm and pulled Charlie next to him, wrapping his tentacles around her.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlie sounded resigned, “you get used to it once you’ve been around this crowd long enough. We’re all a bit mental, but we all love one another.”

So, there it is, Santa. A typical Tyler-Noble Christmas!

I spent quite a while trying to intercept the Doctor before he did any damage to Mum’s kitchen... and other things. I actually found him mucking about in her en suite. Not sure if he managed to do anything before I caught up to him and got him back home, but at least I got to him before Mum did. Like I said before, he looks far too pleased with himself, despite the missing eyebrow and the singed hair. He must have left some sort of surprise behind for Mum. No doubt I’ll hear about it soon enough.

And right now, I’m just waiting for him to “return the favour” he promised me in Mum’s powder room earlier, something about making me scream so loud I’d be heard all the way to Gallifrey. He’s just spending an awful long time in the loo... probably trying out my eyebrow pencils, if I know him. Maybe later I’ll take the TARDIS out, go back a few days, and get him some of his own for his stocking before everyone gets up tomorrow morning.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Give my love to all. Sorry for going off on a bit of a tangent earlier. I was just lying here, waiting for the Doctor and thinking… Oh, I reckon you’re used to it by now, yeah. There’ve been a few tangents over the years and I haven’t had a lump of coal yet. But, just saying, if you feel the urge to leave a lump of coal in the Doctor’s and my mum’s stockings, by all means, go right ahead! I’m all for it!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 **Love, Rose**


	24. December 24, 2039 (Prompt: Ring)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having so many reasons to celebrate throughout the past year, Rose can’t quite manage to feel as happy as she ought to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any ideas for posting chapters of this story throughout the summer and fall went completely out the window… Nevertheless, with the Christmas season upon us, please enjoy another installment of Rose’s annual letter to Father Christmas. I am intending to complete this story this year. Only seven chapters to go after this one!
> 
> Thanks to doctorroseprompts on Tumblr for their _31 Days of Ficmas, 2017_ prompts. The one I’m using today is _Ring_.
> 
> My brilliant betas, rose_nebula and mrsbertucci are still putting up with me. They talk through things with me and provide me with endless inspiration. Thank-you, my luvs!

* * *

December 24th, 2039

**Dear Father Christmas,**

We’ve had so many reasons to celebrate over the past year. I just wish I could feel as happy as I ought to. You know the saying, “the smile didn’t reach someone’s eyes”? Well that’s how I feel: like I should be thrilled and excited – and I’m almost there – but there’s this weight pressing down on me I can’t quite shake. I just feel so sad, not to mention, bloody guilty. Here it is, Christmas Eve, and we’re about to decorate the tree. After the year we’ve had, I should have that warm, fuzzy, Christmassy feeling. Instead, I feel like you’ve gone and left a lump of coal in the pit of my stomach. The Doctor keeps telling me not to be so hard on myself, that it wasn’t my fault. But it really was…

But enough of that! I’ll give you the good news first, yeah?

So, back in February, on Valentine’s Day, after four years of steady dating, Gray finally proposed to Hope. I was thrilled for them. I couldn’t ask for a better match for my little girl. They’re such a lovely pair; they work side by side, partners in every sense of the word – such a great team. He grounds her when she needs grounding and lifts her up and encourages her when her (well-hidden) insecurities kick in.

Mum was, of course, beside herself. It’s been a few years since she’s had a wedding to sink her teeth into. She (and Dad) have offered the mansion and grounds for the ceremony and reception, but much to her chagrin, the two lovebirds don’t seem to be in any rush to tie the knot. They’re perfectly happy, living in sin (Mum’s words! She should talk… all those years on the Estate, bringing home random blokes), and working on Lunar Base Sheppard for the time being.

The Doctor was another case entirely...

Hope and Gray had dropped by a few days after Valentine’s to announce their engagement. They’d taken a shuttle in, so they could surprise us. And as much as the Doctor loves a good surprise, this one threw him for a loop. He hadn’t taken their news well… _at all_. It didn’t help that Hope had started off her announcement with the infamous words, “So here’s the thing…” In his mind, nothing good ever comes of Hope starting a conversation with those words, and he immediately sprang into full-blown over-protective dad mode. The two of them got into one of their classic, explosive Father-daughter arguments, which mostly involved him trying to force his opinions down her throat, and her defending herself by returning the favour.

Gray (bless) tried to step in and mediate before I could warn him off. I knew from plenty of first-hand experience, it was best to just let the two idiots resolve things on their own. (They always did, in time, usually with their traditional mug of cocoa and loads of apologies.) But, live and learn, I suppose... The poor, innocent baby walked right into a row between the Oncoming Storm and Hurricane Hope, a super-storm in the making.

He came out of it in one piece, but decidedly shell-shocked. He’d overheard the Doctor, a man who he thought liked him, drag his name through the mud more than once. That, in and of itself, must have been devastating, but to top it off, despite what I said earlier about Gray being able to ground Hope, he’d learned the hard way, no amount of reasoning would settle her when she was locked in a battle of wills with her father.

If Charlie had been there, she would have clapped him on the shoulder and cheerfully welcomed him to the family. As it was, Mum took him under her wing, wrapping an arm around him and leading him to the kitchen, shooting daggers at the Doctor the whole way. “C’mon, sweetheart. Come help me make a cuppa, yeah. Heaven knows, I could use one, and I _know_ you could, too.”

For the return trip to the lunar base the next day, I offered to take them in the TARDIS. Hope had dug in her heels, still furious with her father, especially for belittling Gray. (I was pissed with him too and had let him have it the previous night, in private, after the Perfect Storm had abated.) But Gray tugged Hope aside and kissed her forehead and hugged her tight. She settled right down, and he was able to persuade her to take me up on my offer. His calming influence over her had apparently returned.

I had considerably less success with the Doctor. He was the Oncoming Sulk, brooding away in his den. I eventually convinced him to come with us to see Hope off, but he’d lurked in the balcony of the console room the entire time. I’d been hoping he and Hope would make up before she and Gray disembarked, but this time, the hurt was running deep. I figured it would be a while before Hope could forgive her father for some of the things he’d said. Quite right, too. He’d been completely out of line, well beyond his normal “rude and not ginger”.

And he knew it.

The minute Hope and Gray left, he finally slunk out of the shadows. Guilt and remorse were rolling off him over our bond. He paced around the TARDIS console, fiddling with the switches and buttons, but not setting a course… just fidgeting. For the time being, the TARDIS stayed put on Lunar Base Sheppard.

“Penny for ‘em?” I was furious with him but consciously kept that emotion suppressed. I mean, I understood where he was coming from: Hope’s his first-born, his beloved daughter, and although he trusts and respects Gray (despite his earlier words), it’s difficult for him to think about letting her go. It was for me too.

“She’s too young.”

I had to roll my eyes. “She’s only a little younger than I was when you proposed to me.”

“Yeah, but you… were you…” He visibly sagged. “She hasn’t dated enough people.”

I’m afraid the tone of my response came out a bit sarcastic. That and I couldn’t help laughing at him. I mean, his comment was absurd, given how strict he had always been about her dating. “Oh, so now you _want_ her to date _more?_ I never thought I’d see the day.”

He gawked at me. “NO! No, no, no, no! Absolutely not! I just don’t want them rushing into anything.”

“And they’re not… They’re engaged. They haven’t even set a date. They want to wait. Doctor, she’s an adult. She has a good head on her shoulders, and she’s had plenty of experience with the universe. Besides, Gray is a good man.”

“I know, I know…” His conflicted emotions bombarded me, and his pacing and fidgeting intensified. He was muttering under his breath, and I caught Javic Thane’s name somewhere among the garbled bits of nonsense he was spewing out.

“What was that?”

“What?” He stopped to gape at me again.

“You mentioned Javic…”

“Did I?

“Yup.”

“Interesting…” He ran his hands through his hair, hedging.

“Out with it!”

“Out with what?”

Santa, I just glared at him. Honestly, after all these years…

“Oh, all right. I just can’t imagine being related to Javic Thane – basically, Captain Jack Harkness, need I remind you – even if only by marriage.”

I stepped up to him and put my arms around his neck. “Doctor, Jack and Javic (both) have always been the best of friends to us, yeah. They already _are_ family, even if one is locked away in another universe. And Gray is also part of our family. He loves Hope. Doctor…”

In seconds, my great Time Lump was babbling out a litany of apologies.

“Not really me you need to apologise to, is it?”

He shook his head, _no_. “I love you.”

“I know… I love you, too, ya big plonker.”

Within minutes he had prepared four mugs of cocoa: two with whipped cream and chocolate curls for him and Hope; one with marshmallows for me; and one with a peppermint stick for Gray. When he opened the TARDIS doors, Hope, with Gray in tow, was waiting on the other side. The two of them carried four steaming, chocolatey mugs of their own between them. None of us could help laughing.

Needless to say, heartfelt apologies were spoken, and everyone was back on good terms within minutes. I looked around at their happy faces, but the entire experience had reminded me of my own engagement… and I couldn’t stop the sadness from taking away from the celebratory mood. Luckily, only the Doctor noticed, and after Hope and Gray had returned home, he took me to Gallifrey, where he held me and comforted me all night long, and distracted me with stories and myths of the various constellations as we lay among the long fronds of red grass, gazing up at the stars.

But, before I go down that long, sad road, I promised I would give you the good news first, and there’s a bit more of that to be had. Santa, I’m an Auntie again! And little Abby is a big sister now. Trevor joined the family in May. He’s the cuddliest little bloke you could hope to meet. He got his two front teeth in, just in time for Christmas, and shows them off all the time with the biggest smiles in the universe. Tony and Noah are proud as punch, and Mum only keeps her hands off the poor little chap long enough to knit him his very first Christmas jumper.

It’s lovely having little ones around for the holidays again. I’d forgotten how special it was. As our children have grown up, the focus has gradually shifted; I hardly even noticed it happening. But this year, Abby is old enough to really enjoy Christmas, and understand a bit about what’s going on. It’s so exciting to experience the magic of the holidays through her innocent eyes.

And now for the bad news... Another event that _should_ have been happy was our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, in September. A time for celebrating, right?

Wrong! All it did was open up wounds that had never really begun to heal in the first place. I don’t think they ever will. Like I said before, the Doctor doesn’t blame me, but I blame myself. Santa, the truth is I lost my wedding and engagement rings. They’re gone, and I have no idea where. I’ve been so upset over this. (Oh, God, I’m starting to cry again.) Those beautiful rings, irreplaceable, designed by the Doctor just for me, as a symbol of our commitment and love, gone! Gone because I’d been careless. The joke is, I never take them off… ever! But all I know is I must have taken them off sometime in early January because I haven’t seen them since. I just don’t remember doing it. We’ve looked everywhere… _everywhere!_ Through the plumbing, under things, inside things, between things. Please, Santa, if you find them on your travels… please bring them home to me.

We decided to check the TARDIS, too, even though we knew the rings weren’t there. She would have told me immediately if I had left them behind. After all, she was instrumental in giving me my engagement ring in the first place, all those years ago. I remember it as clear as day. Now, if I could only remember why and where I took off my rings back in January _this_ year…

Mum, of course, threw us a huge extravaganza of a party, I think as much to try to lift my spirits as to celebrate our anniversary. I hadn’t allowed her to throw me a fiftieth birthday party, back in the spring, so I had to give her this one. It was all a bit much, but it made her happy, and it was quite nice to meet up with friends, old and new.

On the actual day of our anniversary, the Doctor and I just wanted a quiet night to ourselves. With the guilt I was feeling (and had been feeling all year), I wasn’t up to much else. Luckily, it was a warm evening and we decided to head out to the treehouse with our supper and our sleeping bag, so we could spend the evening cuddling under the stars. We reminisced about the rings and how the Doctor and the baby TARDIS had contrived to surprise me with a marriage proposal on Christmas morning, nearly twenty-six years ago.

_We had still been living in our little flat. Even now, looking back, I can’t believe how far we came in just that one year. I had been such a cow to him when he first arrived, and basically a year later he was proposing to me. That was a surprise too; I had no idea he was going to do anything like that. Not that I’d been averse to the idea, it’s just we’d agreed we were already bonded in the most meaningful and intimate way possible. And to be honest, we were really focussed on growing the baby TARDIS. She was such a tiny, little thing, not even a foot tall and just starting to develop her bioluminescent bulbs at the ends of her little branches._

_I’d been worried the week before because she had developed a big lump on one of her branches, and her growth had slowed noticeably. But the lump had disappeared after a few days, and her growth had returned to normal. The strange bit was the Doctor hadn’t seemed at all worried throughout the entire incident. But that hadn’t stopped_ my _imagination racing through all kinds of horrible scenarios, so potential marriage proposals were just about the last thing on my mind._

_Anyway, Christmas morning, me and the Doctor exchanged gifts – I don’t even remember what I gave him – and he handed me the TARDIS with a big, festive bow wrapped around her main trunk. I was so confused, Santa, I can’t begin to tell you. Then the Doctor pointed to a spot on one of the TARDIS’ branches and told me to tickle her… just there. I didn’t take him seriously at first, but then the TARDIS chirped in my mind, encouraging me. What else could I do? I had to tickle her, yeah?_

_So, I did as I’d been asked, and I was treated to a serenade of TARDIS “giggles” (for lack of a better word) in my mind. The part of the branch I was tickling was swelling under my touch, and I realized it was the same spot I had seen the growth a few days earlier. I stopped, afraid I was harming our sweet baby. Oh, Santa, I was so worried!_

_“Go on, then,” the Doctor cajoled, “keep going. Tickle her. You aren’t hurting her, I promise.”_

_I remember biting my lip; I was incredibly unsure I was doing the right thing. But the Doctor was encouraging me, and the TARDIS seemed to be enjoying herself, so I tickled her more. Suddenly, a gorgeous ring popped out of the swelling, directly into my palm. I was dumbstruck, and I barely registered the Doctor dropping to one knee before me._

_He took the ring from me and gestured for me to set the TARDIS down. “Rose Tyler…” His hands were shaking as he took my left hand and slid the ring onto my fourth finger._

_“Doctor?” At the sound of my name, with no other words following it, I had been so irrationally afraid his image would fade before my eyes, the way it had done on Bad Wolf Bay, only a few years earlier._

_I felt such relief when he broke his silence. “I… erm…” he stammered, “I had this speech written out, all ready to go… Blimey, I don’t remember half of it right now. I’m so thick. My stupid, thick_ – _”_

_I cupped his cheek, stroking the stubble with my thumb, reassuring him. “Just say what you’re feeling, yeah.”_

_“Alright... I love you!” he blurted. “Blimey, Rose, I love you so much! And I know we’re already bonded telepathically, but I wanted to make it official the human way, too. If you’ll have me Rose, I promise… I promise you forever. I’ll love you forever.”_

_I felt so weak and happy with love for the ridiculous, lovely man kneeling before me. “I promise you forever, too… my Doctor.” I remember looking down at the ring, thinking I had never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. “You_ are _asking me to marry you, right?”_

_“Yes! Oh, yes!”_

_“Then,_ yes _, you plum.” I pulled him back to his feet. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I kissed him once for every “yes” I spoke. Then, we just held onto each other for the longest time. We were both in a state: tears mixed with laughter, and excitement and joy coursing back and forth over our bond._

_Later when we were cuddled on the sofa eating a Christmas breakfast of banana pancakes, the Doctor told me how clever our little TARDIS had been: she had held onto the ring, allowing her coral to grow around it (that was the bump I’d seen.) She’d been trying to create a transcendental  pocket within herself, and had been putting so much energy into it, her growth had slowed. She’d finally succeeded, creating her very first bigger-on-the-inside “space”._

_I’d been fingering my ring. It was stunning. Such a beautiful thing. That’s when Doctor told me he’d designed the ring himself and confessed he’d meant to use all the elements he’d incorporated into the ring as parts of his proposal, but he’d gone uncharacteristically blank._

_The TARDIS-blue sapphire was nestled in a white-gold split shank, so the gem was flush with the top of the band, a practical but lovely setting, perfect for my often-physical work at Torchwood. The gold was woven into a filigree of infinity knots_ (“…a promise of forever…”) _extending down each side of the ring, and accented with small diamonds_ (“…the stars I’ll take you to visit again someday…”)

It had been meant to be eternal, designed by this wonderful, ridiculous man as an affirmation of our unwavering love. And I had gone and lost it, along with the matching wedding band.

The memories of the baby TARDIS had made me smile, but thinking about the rings, I found myself bursting into tears again as we sat, snuggled in our treehouse.

“They’ll turn up, love,” the Doctor reassured me.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because they will. In fact, I’m so sure of it I made you these to go with them.” He handed me a little box, squeezing it into my hands. “Happy Anniversary, love. The adventure just keeps getting better every year.” He kissed my cheek. “Well, go on, open it!”

I was scared to. What if I lost whatever treasure was hidden inside. I finally opened the box and found two beautiful drop earrings that complemented the ring perfectly, each with a sapphire and a series of woven infinity knots, accented with tiny diamonds. “They’re beautiful,” I sobbed.

“Just like you. Here, let me help you put them on.”

“I’m scared I’ll lose them, too.”

“You won’t, love.”

He placed them in my ears and kissed my lips so tenderly I think I might have melted a little. I fidgeted with my bare finger. “I miss them so much.”

“I know… and I thought of that, too!” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

“You think you’re so impressive!”

“I _am_ so impressive. I keep telling you.” With that, he handed me another little box, a ring box.

I popped it open. Inside was a simple gold band of infinity knots.

“I know it’s nothing compared to the missing ones,” he rushed out an explanation. “It isn’t even great quality gold. But it’s only meant to be a placeholder. I made it out of the chains of those BFF heart necklaces I gave you that very first Christmas… here, together. I thought that would make it a _bit_ special. I put the pendants on the chain with your old TARDIS key for safekeeping.”

“More than a bit! It’s perfect. What a brilliant idea!”

He beamed. “Here, allow me.” He took my hand, the way he had more than twenty-five years ago, and slipped the ring over my fourth finger. “Rose Tyler…”

The weight felt good on my hand. It fit perfectly. “Yes, Doctor?”

“I love you… so much. I have one life, Rose Tyler. I could spend it with you… if you want.”

“Oh, yes! Every single time: yes! Always and forever.”

And so, Santa, that’s my story for this year. The rings have never turned up. I don’t think they ever will, but the Doctor is ever the optimist about them. I know they are just things, material possessions, but they were so much more than that to me. Their cost wasn’t important; what mattered was the thought and love that went into them. The replacement ring is just as significant, in its own way, for just the same reasons.

But I suppose, just because I’ve lost the rings, it doesn’t in any way diminish the love that created them. That promise of forever is just as strong (if not stronger) today as it was twenty-five wonderful years ago. And now, after writing this letter, it’s given me a chance to think things through and really put things in perspective. I think my smile will finally be able to reach my eyes again tonight.

Oh, here comes the Doctor with all the boxes of ornaments. Time to sign off and get our tree decorated and ready in time for your annual visit.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Hope you and Mrs. Claus and all the reindeer receive those special gifts this year, made with love that will last forever, long after the gifts themselves are no more.

**love, Rose**

**P.S.:** Santa! You’ll never guess what happened. The rings turned up, buried in amongst the garland and tinsel. A little Christmas miracle! I remember now! When I was taking down the tree, last year, the needles kept getting stuck under my rings, and were really irritating. I took them off and put them on the tea table for safe keeping. I must have put the garland down there too and swept the lot into the box when I was packing it all away.

Naturally, the Doctor takes full credit for finding them (he pulled the garland from the box.) And now he’s doing his I-told-you-so dance.

He can gloat all he wants! I’m just happy to have those rings back home on my finger, where they belong. The lovely ring he gave me for our twenty-fifth, is on my right hand now, a promise ring of sorts, another symbol of our devotion to one another.

Happy Christmas again, Santa! Lots of love to everyone!

* * *

 


End file.
